At All Costs
by am4ever
Summary: **SPOILERS for Season 5*** How much will it take for love to bloom?
1. Chapter 1

_**Just how far will Lord Merton go to win Isobel Crawley back? Will his sons have a change of heart? And if so, will Isobel agree to be his wife once more? **_

* * *

_**December, 1924**_

He stormed out of Crawley House, not looking back, and shouted at his chauffeur. The poor elderly man quickly opened, then shut the door behind his employer and jumped in to the front seat. He did not know what had happened inside Crawley House, but he had never seen Lord Merton so upset….at least not since the former Lady Merton passed away.

Dickie Merton ran a hand through his hair before leaning his head back against the seat. He closed his eyes, only to be tortured by the faces of his wretched sons. Opening his eyes again, he looked out across the fields as they drove out of Yorkshire in contemplation.

If only he could make Isobel see that she was most important to him…his sons had long since cut their father out of their lives. It was not as if they would be at the house all the time. They lived and worked in London. Though, he did have to admit they could make life horrible for her. Dickie typically moved in to his London home for the season. If Isobel were to accompany him, she would be thrown in to a life of aristocrats that she neither knew nor cared for in the past. And if Larry and Timothy had anything to do with it, the friends of Larry and Timothy Grey would come to loathe Isobel for taking their mother's place.

But how on Earth would he get rid of his sons? They were his own flesh and blood….and he did care about their well-being. He even chanced that he loved them deep down. But when one's children become adults that go against every moral fiber of one's humanity, what is a father to do?

* * *

_**Early March, 1925**_

"Good God! Have a listen to this," Robert exclaimed, leaning over to get better light as he read aloud from the morning newspaper.

_The Lord Richard Grey, of Merton House, has formally disinherited his eldest son, The Honorable Larry Grey. The proclamation came yesterday from Merton House's lawyer, stating that Larry Grey has proven himself unworthy of the title. At this time, the younger son, Timothy Grey, will inherit the title and estate of Merton House. __No further information was available at the time of printing._

Edith's eyes were wide as her father pulled the paper down to look at her. "That is a shock."

"To say the least!" Robert answered, folding the paper and setting it to the side. "I always knew Larry was a git, but I never expected Dickie to go so far as to take away the estate from him."

"Perhaps something happened since we last saw them. If that last dinner was any indication, I can imagine why Dickie would want to leave him out," Edith replied, taking a sip of her tea.

"I wonder if Isobel has seen this," Robert commented. "It seems such a pity that she and Dickie could not work out their differences."

"I cannot blame her," Edith answered. "Both Larry and Timothy spoke horribly to her. I don't know that I would willingly enter a marriage under those pretenses."

Robert became silent, his eyes staring in to space as a theory began to form in his mind.

"Papa? Are you all right?" Edith asked, noting her father's serious look.

"Yes….quite. I must go speak with your mother," Robert said, wiping the corner of his mouth and standing. He leaned over to kiss her cheek and then walked towards the dining room door. "See you at luncheon."

And with that, the Earl of Grantham left his daughter alone and a bit confused as to his sudden change in demeanor.

* * *

"Denker!" The Dowager Countess was ringing her bell insistently, the morning paper still in her other hand.

"Forgive me, milady. I was still down the hall getting your things ready for the day," the out of breath lady's maid replied.

"Have…have you seen this?" Violet asked, pointing towards the newspaper. "About Lord Merton?"

"No milady. I have not seen anything," Denker replied quickly, fearing there was something she should know that she did not.

"Well, it doesn't matter now. I must go to Crawley House immediately."

"But your breakfast milady…"

Violet held up a hand as she set the tray to the side. "Food must wait, Denker. This is important."

The lady's maid helped the Dowager Countess out of bed, quite perplexed as to what had her so worked up this morning.

* * *

"What do you mean she is not at home? It is not even nine o'clock in the morning."

The young maid looked down, clearly frightened to answer the Dowager Countess who stood at the front door of Crawley House.

"Forgive me, milady. But Mrs. Crawley went to help at the Outpatient Clinic early this morning. She left before seven," the young maid squeaked out, wringing her hands together in fear.

"Good heavens…even the roosters are not up so early!"

The young maid swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a weak smile to match the glare of the Dowager.

"When was she to return?"

"Not until this evening, milady."

"Fine. Then I will go find her myself," Violet said sharply, turning on her heel towards the motor car. But after a few steps, she turned back to face the maid.

"Has Mrs. Crawley read her morning paper?"

"The morning paper, milady?"

Violet sighed, clearly annoyed that she had to spell things out for the girl. "Yes, the morning paper. You know, the one that gets delivered each morning? People tend to read it with their breakfast or tea."

A look of dawning appeared over the maid's features and she nodded. "Right, the morning paper milady."

When silence followed, Violet sighed again and clasped both hands on top of her walking stick. She forced a kind smile in the girl's direction.

"And did Mrs. Crawley read it before she left today?"

"Oh…no, milady. She did not have time this morning. We have it set aside for her if she is home for tea this afternoon."

_Finally_, Violet thought.

"Right, thank you," Violet said, turning around once more and walking to the motor car. She rolled her eyes at her chauffeur while he held open her door.

"No common sense," she said under her breath, allowing the chauffeur to help her in the car. As he was about the close the door, she held up a hand. "We must stop at the Outpatient Clinic, beside the hospital."

"Very good, milady," the man said, closing the door and getting in the front seat. As the car pulled away from Crawley House, the Dowager Countess began to formulate what she was going to say to her cousin, Isobel Crawley.

* * *

A bell rang about the entrance to the clinic, signaling the arrival of a patient.

"I'll be right with you," Isobel called from her place in the back of the storage area. Pulling out another set of fresh linens, she gathered her pile and moved towards the front of the clinic. "My apologies…I was in the back….oh, cousin Violet!"

Isobel stopped short when she saw Violet Crawley standing in the middle of the clinic's entrance. The woman was dressed elegantly, donning the latest in her collection of stylish hats, but wore a look of urgency on her face.

"Cousin Isobel…are you quite alone?"

Isobel took a few short steps forward and placed the linens on the desk. "Yes. But what brings you here….and so early?" Isobel asked, looking down at the small clock pinned to her shirt. For the Dowager to be out and about Downton Village at half past nine was a rarity. Isobel surmised something was out of sorts…or one of the family members was ill.

_George,_ Isobel thought. The color drained a bit from her face as she came to stand beside Violet.

"Is everything all right?" she asked quickly. "George…and Mary….are they all right?"

Violet, sensing the distress of her cousin, tentatively placed a hand on Isobel's arm. "They are fine. No one is ill. But I needed to speak with you right away."

Isobel's eyes closed in relief and she put a hand to her chest, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. "Goodness, you gave me a fright. What is so urgent it could not wait until later?"

"You may want to sit down for this," Violet said, motioning to the bench along the wall. Casting a curious gaze over at the Dowager, Isobel allowed Violet to sit first before joining her.

"Well if no one is ill, what could be so serious that I need to sit? I'm not easily shocked, I'll remind you," Isobel said with a smile.

But Isobel's smile soon faded as Violet spoke.

"It's about Lord Merton…he's disinherited Larry."

* * *

****What do you all think? Reviews appreciated!******


	2. Chapter 2

_I am overwhelmed by such kind reviews! Thank you, thank you!_

_I hope you enjoy this second chapter…it was a bit difficult to write so I apologize if any of the wording seems out of character for our favorite Julian Fellows creations! _

_Happy Downton Day!_

* * *

Her hand shook a bit as she laid the newspaper to the side, not sure what to believe in this moment.

"So, now you see for yourself," Violet spoke, watching Isobel carefully to gauge her reaction.

It was later in the afternoon, and Violet had insisted that Isobel come for tea….to discuss the situation. At first, Isobel had pushed the disinheritance of Larry Grey to the side, choosing instead to focus on her work at the clinic. It was quite easy to distract herself…she had been doing the same thing for three months. Ever since she had watched Lord Merton walk out of her sitting room.

But when early afternoon came and no new patients arrived, she found herself staring at a blank piece of paper. She had been trying to come up with a list of supplies needed for the clinic, but her mind could only focus on one thing….Dickie. Why he was in her thoughts when she had refused his proposal was beyond her logical mind to deduce. It did not make any sense.

And in this moment, sitting across from Violet Crawley, she still had no answer as to why this information about Lord Merton had opened up a well of emotions inside her.

"He must be serious," Violet said softly, raising her tea cup to her lips, one eye still on Isobel.

Isobel looked up in confusion at her cousin. "Well of course he is. One does not disinherit a child if they are not serious about it."

"No," Violet answered evenly.

"No?"

"I meant he must be serious about marrying you."

Isobel's eyes widened in silent shock as a grin formed on Violet's face. "You realize that now your reason for refusing his marriage proposal in nullified."

"But I…I told him I would not come between a father and his sons. Larry may be out of the will, but he is still a part of his father's life."

"My dear, I highly doubt Larry will be welcome at the next family gathering," Violet answered. "And with Larry out of the way, you have no further reason to deny marrying Lord Merton."

"But Timothy is still heir to the estate, and he was not keen on my entering the family either," Isobel countered.

"Perhaps it was Larry causing tension in the house, not Timothy," Violet shot back.

"True….it was Larry who wrote that dreadful letter…." Isobel hated to remember the harshness of Larry's words…and the look on Dickie's face when he finally read them.

"I still believe you should have showed Dickie the letter earlier."

"I wanted time to think over my decision," Isobel reminded Violet, only gaining another huff from the Dowager.

"Rather…to convince yourself of your decision," Violet said quietly, but loud enough that Isobel's tea cup dropped to the saucer with a clatter.

"What did you say?" she asked, her arms crossing while her eyes creased in frustration. Violet, however, did not back down.

"You were going to marry the man! But instead of fighting for his son's acceptance, you gave in faster than a hound on the hunt."

"So says the woman who let go of the one man who would have given up everything to be with her," Isobel argued, earning her a glare from the Dowager.

"A completely different situation," Violet answered with a sniff, holding her head high in challenge. Isobel, however, was not in the mood for a war of words.

She stood and smoothed down the front of her skirt, quickly gathering her hand bag. "Since I see you care about none other than your own opinion in this matter, I will leave you to it."

"You know I am right," Violet said, calmly leaning back in her seat…waiting. And as she had predicted, Isobel turned, one hand on the doorknob, the other tightly clutching her handbag.

"And what if you are? What does it matter now that I have already wished Dickie well and moved on with my life?"

"Yes, but you see…now, the tides have turned…and one of the boy's is removed," Violet answered, rising and grasping her walking stick. Taking a few steps closer to Isobel, she lowered her voice in case Spratt was standing on the other side of the door.

"You have a chance at happiness. I know you will not admit it...but you _are_ in love with the man. And though it pains me to say this, you've always been unwavering in helping others find the right path. But now…you are letting fear drive your decisions, Isobel."

Isobel met Violet's eyes and instead of finding them harsh, she saw a glimmer of compassion. Emotions welled so much that a lump formed in her throat. And before she would allow herself to be embarrassed in front of the Dowager Countess, she quickly turned, opened the door and walked straight out of the Dower House.

* * *

"It was kind of you to come, Robert. Do sit down," Lord Merton said, motioning toward an open arm chair in the library of Cavenham.

He handed Robert a drink and then took a seat across from him, slowly sipping the scotch he had poured himself. Robert observed Dickie's movements, noting how depressed the man seemed. He wondered what had happened in the three months since he had last seen his friend.

"I thought it best to get the story from you, rather than the papers," Robert said, mimicking Dickie and taking a sip of his drink.

Dickie sat forward, setting his tumbler on the side table and clasping his hands over his knees. "It's quite simple, really. Larry is no longer my heir. Timothy has been named in the will."

"But why Dickie? This is all very sudden, isn't it?"

"Mm, it is…to a point. But had all of Larry's indiscretions and scandals been put in to the papers when they occurred, no one would be surprised by this turn of events."

Robert's eyes widened slightly as he leaned back in his chair. "So, this is something you were planning?"

"Not planning, necessarily. But when it came to it, I could no longer allow him to live his life free of responsibility."

Robert nodded but was silent for a moment. True, he had taken the time to cover up or "forget" many indiscretions for the sake of his family before; Mary and the Turkish diplomat….Edith and her illegitimate child…Tom's warrant for arrest in Ireland. Could he blame Dickie for covering up Larry's problems in the past to save his family's reputation?

"I can understand why…I cannot say that I have not done the same for my own. But why now? What happened….oh…"

Robert realized the answer to his own questions when Dickie's face fell and he looked down at his clasped hands.

"It was Isobel, wasn't it?"

Dickie did not answer for a moment, not sure what to say. But he nodded, continuing to clasp his hands tightly in front of him. He finally sat up straight, crossing his arms and looking over to Robert.

"I cannot allow Larry's choices to dictate the rest of my life, Robert."

"But I thought Timothy did not approve either," Robert reminded Dickie.

Lord Merton stood, crossing to the fireplace after taking his drink once more. He took a long sip of the scotch before staring in to the flames.

"Timothy has always been the forgotten younger brother. Larry treated him like a puppet…telling him what to do, what to say."

Dickie faced Robert again, turning his glass around in his hand.

"After it all was finalized with our lawyer, Larry decided to move out of the country. I do not care to see him again, neither does his brother. When Timothy heard all of what Larry had done…not only to others but to members of our own family…he began to change his opinions."

Dickie sighed and took his seat once more. "It is not for sure…but Timothy understands my care for Isobel. He has agreed to meet her again, learn more about her life and her motivation for becoming my wife."

As Dickie became silent once more, Robert saw the sadness wash over his face. He set his own glass down and leaned forward.

"You're worried she will not agree to it, aren't you?"

"She is adamant in her opinions, Robert. It is one thing I appreciate most about her. But…this is not another one of her charities she is fighting for. This is personal…and I fear she will not change her mind after all that has been said."

"She is a proud woman…but not so proud that she will not listen to reason," Robert replied.

"I do hope you're right. But I'm afraid there may be something else preventing her from marrying again."

"Why do you say that?" Robert asked.

Dickie swallowed hard, not sure how much he should divulge…especially when it came to something this personal.

"Just a feeling I have," Dickie replied, finishing his scotch with one last swig.


	3. Chapter 3

_**I am overwhelmed by all of your kind reviews and will do my best to incorporate some of your amazing ideas! Thank You! Here's a short chapter leading up to a big conversation in Chapter 4**_

* * *

"Well, I think you must go. At least to hear what he has to say," Violet said, handing the letter back to Isobel.

The two women sat in Violet's garden sharing tea the next afternoon. Isobel had decided it better to share the letter with Violet…even though she was still wary of Violet's opinion on her refusing Dickie's hand in marriage. Regardless, Violet was the closest friend she had in the village and the only other woman she had confided in about her troubled relationship with Lord Merton.

"Perhaps…though I'm not quite sure there is anything more to be said," Isobel answered, tucking the letter in to her handbag.

"Of course there is more to say! Do you not want to know why he disinherited Larry?" Violet asked.

"I suppose…but it won't change anything," Isobel replied, allowing her hands to wind around her tea cup. The warmth of the tea permeated through her gloves to give her a bit of comfort under Violet's piercing gaze.

"You are impossible," Violet huffed, throwing her hands up in the air. She stood and began to walk towards the entrance of the Dower House.

Isobel sighed and followed Violet, remaining silent while Violet mumbled under her breath. Isobel knew Violet meant well, but she had resigned herself to the fact that she and Lord Merton could never be married. Suddenly, Violet stopped and turned, causing Isobel to waver slightly as Violet's body became a barrier.

"You are afraid," Violet said plainly once Isobel had regained her balance.

"Afraid? Whatever do you mean?" Isobel asked, her arms crossed as she met Violet's harsh glare with one of her own.

"You are afraid that by going to Cavenham, you will have to give up the ridiculous notion that you cannot marry Lord Merton."

Isobel stood silent for a moment, shocked that Violet had put a finger so easily on the emotions she was overwhelmed by. She looked down, her stature slackening, while realization began to dawn.

Violet sensed the resignation and stepped forward, patting Isobel's arm. "It is only for tea, Isobel. He's not asking you down the aisle."

Isobel nodded and looked up with a weak smile. "You're right."

"Of course I am," Violet said, turning on her heel to head in to the house. Isobel rolled her eyes and followed the Dowager inside, hoping she was not making herself vulnerable to hurt once more.

* * *

Dickie's hands wrung nervously as he paced back and forth in the drawing room. He stopped and looked at his pocket watch again, finding only two minutes had passed since last he checked.

He had received Isobel's letter yesterday, agreeing to meet him for tea this afternoon. His driver had left late that morning to pick her up. But the chauffeur should have been back by now, shouldn't he? What if Isobel decided not to come? What if this last chance he had at winning her back was gone?

"Milord?" the Butler called, coming to the entrance of the drawing room. Dickie turned quickly, hoping Isobel would be behind the man.

But she wasn't.

"Yes, what is it Mead?" Dickie asked shortly, resuming his pacing.

"Will Mr. Timothy be dining with you this evening? Mrs. Crane would like to prepare enough if…"

"No…he caught the two o'clock back to London this afternoon. I will dine alone tonight."

"Very good, milord," the Butler replied, turning to exit.

"Mead, wait!" Dickie called, taking a few strides to stand in front of the Butler. "Have you heard anything about Mrs. Crawley's arrival? The car should have been back by now."

"I'm afraid not, milord. Perhaps there was something that held them up along the way," Mead replied, sensing the anxiety in his employer.

"Right, of course. Well, please make sure to alert me when…"

Both men turned their heads as they heard the sound of a car door slam shut. Mead smiled at Lord Merton whose face had gone pale.

"I believe the car is back, milord. I will get the door," Mead said quietly, allowing the Baron a moment or two to collect himself.

Dickie shook his head to clear his mind, straightened his tie and buttoned his coat. His fingers balled in to fists at his sides as he strode out of the drawing room and through the front hall. He was on a mission…and this time, he would not accept failure.

Mead moved to the side and nodded at Lord Merton who now stood beside him. Clearing his throat, the Baron took a tentative step on to the front landing while the chauffeur opened the back door of the car. His breath caught in his throat as she stepped out, looking lovelier than he remembered. But it wasn't until her eyes met his that a smile finally graced Lord Merton's face.


	4. Chapter 4

_Let the conversation begin!_

* * *

For quite awhile, the clock's ticking and quiet clatter of tea cups were the only sounds heard in the large drawing room of Cavenham. Dickie handed Isobel a cup of tea which she thanked him for. But that was the last word she had spoken for the past five minutes.

After he had dismissed the footman, Dickie worried whether or not he should start the conversation with something light, unrelated to their recent engagement. Or would it be better to come out with it, tell her all about what happened with Larry and see how she reacted?

"It was good of you to come," he began quietly, setting his cup aside and looking over at her. He knew she was avoiding his gaze, but he would not give up on her so easily. He was determined to make this work.

"It was good of you to invite me," she answered.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Well…and you?" she responded, her eyes finally moving from her cup to his face.

This was it…she had opened the door, though she probably did not mean to. But now, he knew he must step through.

"To be quite honest, everything has been out of sorts lately. I'm sure you've read about it."

She blinked twice before nodding, not sure how she should answer or what she was to say. Did he want her to be enthusiastic that Larry was no longer his heir? Or was she to be sympathetic that one of his sons was now…apparently…out of his life?

"Only what was in the paper earlier in the week," she replied slowly.

"Indeed. I wouldn't expect you to know more than that. I tried to keep it quiet; though, I'm not sure why I did. God knows Larry does not deserve such decency."

He looked away from her, out the window, trying to reign in his emotions. It wouldn't do to frighten her away by allowing his frustrations to play out over their tea.

"Lord Merton…did you ask me here because…well because you disinherited Larry? Or was it for some other reason?" Isobel asked softly. He was hurt that she had reverted to using his title, rather than his first name. But, could he blame her? Their engagement was broken after all.

"In part because of Larry's antics," he replied, turning back to face her. "I wanted to tell you the whole story, rather than allow you to read it in the papers."

"That was kind of you," she said.

"You see, Isobel…might I call you that?" he asked, suddenly aware that if she was using his title, it might be improper to call her by her Christian name.

She nodded, allowing him a small sigh of relief.

"Isobel…after we last met…I was so angry…so hurt…so utterly upset by Larry's dreadful letter that I knew something had to be done. I was frustrated that my sons never considered why I felt we should marry; they only cared about themselves and their inheritance."

He stood and moved to the window, choosing to face away from her to make telling the tale a bit easier.

"When I told them of your decision not to marry me…Larry was…well, he was happy to say the least. He carried on boasting about his latest schemes and the women he romanced away from their husbands…and that I would see to the police's inquiries when they came looking for him. I knew he needed to be stopped."

With that, he turned to face her, finding her expression quite serious and a bit confused.

"Isobel, I told you before I shielded the boys from the horrid relationship their mother and I had. Not only that, I shielded them from taking responsibility for their actions. I was a fool when it came to fatherhood…I thought making one's children happy was what mattered…not teaching them right from wrong."

He moved over to the table once more, heavily sitting in the seat beside Isobel and wiping his hand over his eyes.

"I never realized that my actions when the boys were young would create the selfish men they are today. A regret I will live with for the rest of my life…"

Isobel's eyes softened, knowing how difficult it must be for him to reveal all of this personal information to her. "I'm sure it was not all your fault. Children are privy to many other tempting influences."

He smiled, grateful she still cared enough to try and comfort him. "Perhaps. But, in the end, I gave Larry a choice; to either own up to his actions or to leave my house completely."

Isobel's eyes widened, shocked that such an ultimatum had been given. Throwing all caution to the wind, Dickie reached over and took one of Isobel's hands.

"Isobel…Larry is moving out of the country, away from his innumerable scandals. I have agreed to remain silent of what I know if he allows his brother to become heir to the estate. Which brings me to the other reason I asked you to come…"

He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand gently.

"Timothy and I have spoken at length. He feels his initial meeting with you was influenced by Larry's misgivings, and he is sorry for it. If you agree, he would like to meet you properly over dinner."

"But I…"

Dickie stood again, holding tightly to her hand.

"Isobel, I was wrong before. I thought simply words could influence Larry and Timothy to change their minds about our marrying. But I have found that actions are much better suited to these circumstances."

He took a step closer to her, placing his free hand over her fingers nestled in his large palm. "I asked you once before if there was something other than the boys that would prevent you from marrying me."

"I remember," she said softly, looking away from his piercing gaze. Was this really happening?

"Is that still true Isobel? Because Larry is gone…and Timothy would like to get to know more about you…and I desperately want you to become my wife…if you will still have me."

Tears threatened to fall but she blinked quickly, urging them back. She looked up and saw his eyes were also glistening, signaling how true his feelings were for her.

"Lord Merton…"

"Please…" he responded as his eyes and smile turned downward. She placed her handbag on the table and nervously stood in front of him.

"Right…Dickie…" she answered, seeing his face brighten immediately, "…I'm not sure what to say. This is all very sudden."

He gripped her hand, relishing the fact that he was able to touch her once more. "I know…and I don't mean to bully you. I just…"

He broke away and turned back to the window, both hands coming to rest on his hips. How was he ever going to make her believe this could work?

"I just need to know that you have not given up on us. I need to know that if Timothy comes 'round…you will truly marry me."

He turned back to find her facing away from him, arms crossed while her shoulders slightly shook when she took in a breath. Concerned, he took a few steps forward, mere inches away from her quivering form.

"Isobel…Isobel, what is it?" he asked softly, one hand coming to rest ever so gently on her shoulder.

The quivering stopped, and her body tensed at his touch. What was she doing…allowing herself to be so vulnerable in his presence? Wasn't this what she was trying to avoid…hadn't she decided against letting her emotions show?

She felt herself being turned around, both of his hands now resting on her shoulders as he gazed down at her. She dared not look up for fear she would crumble. She could not let this happen again…could not dare to love….

For if she lost love again…she would never survive.  
~*~*~*~


	5. Chapter 5

"Goodness, Granny, what has you so riled up this afternoon?" Mary asked, one eyebrow rising in curiosity.

"I haven't the faintest notion what you are referring to?" Violet answered, her lips pressing together tightly as she looked away from Mary.

Mary and Cora shared a smile before Mary turned back to face her Grandmother. "You've been fidgeting since arriving. There must be something on your mind."

"Why would anything be on my mind? The only thing that could possibly cause me concern is how to deal with Denker and Spratt!"

"Are they still at odds?" Cora asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"Constantly. There is not a day goes by that one does not harp about the other…you would think they had been married for thirty years!"

Mary and Cora laughed softly as Robert entered the library.

"What is so funny?" he asked, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Granny was just telling us how Denker and Spratt act like quite the married couple," Mary replied.

Robert turned quickly. "Surely they're not?"

"Of course they're not," Cora answered, rolling her eyes.

"Thank goodness! Wouldn't that be an ordeal?" Robert replied, coming to sit beside Violet on the settee. "Where is Isobel? I thought she was coming with you to visit the children?"

"She was…but another invitation came for her this afternoon," Violet answered, setting her tea cup aside and standing. "And now, I must be off."

"You only just arrived, Mama. Do stay…the children would still like to see you even if Isobel is not here," Cora said.

"I'm not so sure," Violet replied under her breath. Heaven knew she was not comfortable around small children. And they could sense it…or so she believed.

"Come now, Granny. They will be disappointed if you don't at least say hello. And besides, you must tell us what has Isobel off somewhere else," Mary said, one of the only family members who knew how to challenge to the Dowager.

"It is not my story to tell, Mary," Violet replied, forcing a smile.

"Goodness, that's quite opaque, Mama," Robert responded. "She's not in any trouble, is she?"

"Of course not!" Violet responded.

"Then where has she gone? She hardly ever misses a visit with George," Mary answered matter-of-factly.

Violet acquiesced and took her seat once more. "If you must know, she has gone to Cavenham."

"Cavenham? To visit Dickie Merton?" Robert asked, sitting forward.

Violet nodded, her face dropping a bit in sadness. "I'm afraid it may not turn out well."

"Hasn't Dickie gotten rid of Larry? That should please Isobel," Mary said.

"He has…he told me that himself," Robert answered.

"Oh I do hope it will work out in the end for them," Cora said quietly. "Dickie was simply crushed by that dreadful dinner. And then Isobel turning him down…"

"Who could blame her?" Mary spoke loudly, her eyes quickly darkening. "Who would want to be in a family with the likes of Larry Grey?"

"Mary…" Cora warned, though she could not help feeling the same way herself.

"But Mama, Isobel seemed so keen on marrying Dickie before all of that nonsense. What would prevent her from marrying him now?" Robert asked.

Violet sat for a moment in silence, not wanting to give away Isobel's secret. Though Isobel had never told Violet her real feelings on the subject, the Dowager Countess was clever. Clever enough that Isobel's silence had actually given Violet Crawley the truth.

"I'm afraid it's quite complicated."

* * *

"You must understand...I so appreciate your efforts…and your honesty," Isobel said at long last.

The few moments of silence that had passed were painful, and it was all Lord Merton could do to keep his wits about him.

"But Dickie…I'm not sure it's as easy as all that," she answered, finally daring to look up and meet his eyes. He was confused by her response, and she could see he wanted to question her further.

"I would be glad to meet Timothy again, and I do hope that it would turn out well in the end. He seems like a very nice young man. And I cannot blame him for wanting to preserve his mother's memory…I only hope that Matthew would have done the same for me."

With that, she turned and walked around him, stepping towards the windows. He stayed put, hoping to give her the distance she seemed to need just now.

"You are a dear man, Dickie, and I do not wish to hurt you. But after all that's happened, I'm just not sure marrying would be for the best."

"But…"

She turned back to him and cut him short. "Dickie, Larry is still your son, and I fear it is my fault that he is not welcome in this home any longer. This home he grew up in…it's my doing that it's been taken from him."

Stepping forward, Dickie quickly protested. "Not at all….Isobel, if only you knew what horrid things Larry has done, you would realize this is for the best. I should be thanking you for it."

The lines at the corners of her eyes creased in confusion. With a small smile, he explained, "You gave me the courage to finally stand up and be the father I should have been years ago. I know it was never your intention for Larry to be out of the family…perhaps one day he will return…but only if he acts responsibly and charitably."

Forgetting herself for a moment, she smiled up at him. "Thank you for that."

"I mean it…every word," he answered, his eyes staring directly in to hers.

How she wanted to believe it could be true…that she could be happy with Dickie. She wanted that exciting journey they had dreamed of a few months before…but her logical mind simply would not stop whirling.

"So tell me…honestly…" he continued, "am I wrong in thinking there is something else. Something more that worries you?"

How could he see through her? How could he know? She had always done so well at keeping her emotions in check, her feelings hidden…how on Earth could this man whom she had not seen in three months read her like a book?

"Isobel?" he questioned, worried as her eyes drifted away from him, staring off in to the distance.

Snapping back to the moment, her eyes met his once more. "Dickie, I'm sorry…I can't."

"Can't? But… please…tell me what more I can do!," he pleaded with her. He moved towards her, but she turned quickly, crossing her arms across her and bowing her head.

_Deep breaths…out…in…out…in…_she told herself. She would not break…would not crumble…she could hold fast….


	6. Chapter 6

_Again, I can't thank you all enough for your kind and welcome reviews! _

_**Slight edit to the end of Chapter 5…I took the last line out "I can't love you" because I wanted this next chapter to go a different way than I originally imagined. I hope the final product for Chapter 6 meets your expectations!**_

_Deep breaths…out…in…out…in…_

Isobel could sense Lord Merton move closer and tensed when he placed his hands on her shoulders.

_Out…in...out...in…_

She tried to resist but his grip turned her to face him.

_Out….in….out…._

His hand lifted her chin, and he leaned down until he was eye-level with her.

_In…out…in…. _

"Please trust me…" he spoke quietly.

_Out…..out…..in…..out…..out…_

She shook her head back and forth slowly, trying to focus on her breathing…but it was all for not. Under his compassionate gaze, she could no longer remember why marrying him was wrong.

"Isobel, you're shaking. Do have a rest…" he said, keeping his hands on her arms to steady her.

She again shook her head, not trusting her legs to keep her upright if she dared move. Dickie was getting worried, seeing that her face had gone pale and her breathing was out of sync.

_Reginald….Matthew….Gone….Dead….Gone…._

_Out…in…..out…..out…..in…in….._

Dickie did not dare allow her to go on like this much longer. He strengthened his grip on her and gently pulled her towards the table, settling her in to a chair.

He waited, not knowing the right thing to do. She was visibly overwhelmed…but fighting something he could neither see nor understand. And until she trusted him with her fears, he sat silent beside her….hoping this was not the beginning of the end.

_You are letting fear drive your decisions, Isobel…_

After a few tense moments, her eyes stalled and widened. Her fingers were digging in to her palms so tightly that he feared she would draw blood. Ever the gentleman, he reached in to his pocket and pulled out a fresh handkerchief. He pressed the cloth in to her hand, relieved to see her fingers wrap around it.

The light had since faded outside, the room now lit only by the small fire and two lamps on the mantle. He didn't know how long they had sat silent…it felt like hours…before she finally called to him.

"Dickie…"

"Isobel…are you quite all right?" he asked, sitting forward and trying to read her emotionless face.

"There _is_ another reason…another reason I must not marry you."

And now, all of the hope he'd levied over the past days and hours was suddenly whisked away in mere seconds.

"And that is…?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I've lost the two people in my life I held most dear…I fear I will not make it through should it happen again," she spoke, each word growing softer until her voice was but a whisper.

Realization finally dawned. His heart broke as a single tear fell down her cheek. The memory of her husband and son, now dead and gone, must be devastating. He didn't blame her for protecting her heart. While he had never known such love in his past, he could understand the pain of losing someone so dear. It was what he felt when she'd turned him down before Christmas.

"Do forgive me for being so insensitive, Isobel," he responded quietly, ashamed he had not understood her reservations earlier.

"Please…don't apologize…I am the one who has and must remain distant," she answered, her hand tentatively reaching over to cover his.

He saw her tears were gone, leaving only a look of tired resignation to grace her features. How he wished he could take her pain away.

His hand turned so that their palms met and his fingers cautiously weaved with hers. "But you need not distance yourself."

Her breath hitched as he forged on.

"Isobel, we mustn't let fear drive our decisions," he said calmly. "Fear of making my children angry when they were young ended up pushing them further away in the end. And now, you mustn't let that same kind of fear prevent your happiness any longer."

Her hand clutched his handkerchief, gripping it as tightly as she could. She knew he was right, but could she open her heart and be that vulnerable again?hat vulnerable she open her heart to him... she had

"Isobel, if you truly feel nothing for me, I will wish you only happiness for the rest of your days. But if you feel anything…_anything _at all…I beg of you to reconsider."

He did not press on further, only rubbed his thumb over her fingers gently. He would give her all the time she needed…and would hold true to the promise he'd just made.

_You must not let fear drive your decisions, Isobel…_

_Father would only want the best for you Mother…_

_Isobel, live your life….I want you to be happy. _

After a brief moment, her lips turned upwards in a small smile. He was a bit confused by the change in her features for she suddenly seemed at peace. As he straightened in his chair, she squeezed his hand and let out a small sigh.

"It seems your eloquence has won me over once more, Lord Merton."


	7. Chapter 7

_As always, thank you so much for your reviews! I know many have expressed interest in the relationship with Lord Merton and Isobel which makes me SUPER happy. _

_And to those who feel she is better off with Dr. Clarkson, I say that if Julian Fellows writes it that way, then I am all for it! My thoughts, currently, are that Lord Merton appreciates Isobel for the woman she is, regardless of her status in life. Whereas in Season 5, I was a bit miffed by Dr. Clarkson's reaction to her being accepted and courted by someone of a higher class. Hence why I am all for the Merton/Isobel relationship right now. _

_But, should Julian Fellows change directions in Season 6, I'm all about it. My main concern is that Isobel is happy!_

* * *

"Well….how long do you wish to keep me in suspense? I might keel over before you tell me what happened," Violet huffed as she fixed Isobel with a pointed gaze.

It was all the Dowager Countess could do not to call on Isobel as soon as the sun rose the morning after Isobel's visit to Cavenham Park. She had sent a note over with Denker, insisting Isobel come to tea that afternoon to discuss the upcoming Hospital Board meeting.

Isobel, however, knew the Hospital Board was never high on Violet Crawley's list of priorities. And now, as she sat silently in the drawing room of the Dower House, she decided to hold her tongue a bit longer. The Dowager Countess was never one to show much emotion, so seeing her shift uneasily in her seat amused Isobel to say the least.

"There is not much to tell," Isobel said, sipping her tea quietly. Violet rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in exasperation.

"You were there the entire afternoon; how can you have nothing to tell after four hours of conversation?"

"It was hardly four hours of conversation," Isobel replied.

"Well, I would hope it was nothing more than that," Violet said lowly, causing Isobel's eyes to widen considerably.

"What are you implying?"

"Tell me what happened and I shall have nothing to imply," Violet answered with a smirk.

Isobel rolled her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap. "Very well. We did speak about Larry and it seems as though he is no longer welcome at Cavenham."

"Not at all?" Violet asked, a bit surprised.

"Mm…it seems Timothy is named in the will as the heir and Larry had decided to leave the country and his misdeeds behind."

"My…that is quite a bit more than I expected from the likes of Dickie Merton," Violet said.

Isobel's eyes creased, suddenly feeling defensive. "What do you mean?"

"Only that I never knew Lord Merton to have much of a backbone when it came to his sons."

"Perhaps he was never given the chance," Isobel answered quickly, not wanting Violet to blame Dickie for the uncomfortable situation. The poor man already blamed himself…it would not do for the rest of England's society to do the same.

Violet regarded Isobel and noted there was a change in her cousin's demeanor since they had last discussed Lord Merton. One eyebrow rose in challenge as she replied, "And where does this leave your relationship with Dickie Merton?"

"Why should it be any different?"

"Because there is more color in your face than I've seen the past three months…and you are very quick to defend Dickie and his decisions."

"I never…" Isobel began to refute but was interrupted by Violet raising her hand.

"My dear, it will not do. Tell me the truth or I'll ring up Dickie myself."

Isobel's lips pressed together to hold in any rude comment she would speak in retaliation. Though Violet was her cousin and close confidant, she hated that the woman could see right through her.

"Fine, if you must know, he has asked me to meet with Timothy for dinner next Saturday evening."

"And that's it? Nothing more?"

Isobel sighed and caught Violet's eyes. "And then… if Timothy is in agreement… we have decided to plan a wedding for this coming fall."

Violet uncharacteristically clapped her hands together in delight. "Goodness, I never thought you would come to it!"

Isobel crossed her arms, a bit puzzled by Violet's excitement. "I thought you were against my marrying Dickie?"

"I was never against it, dear," Violet said, ringing the bell to her right. Spratt entered the room as Isobel continued to stare curiously at Violet.

"Ah, Spratt. Will you take the tea service away and bring in something a bit brighter? Mrs. Crawley and I have something to celebrate," Violet said, smiling to her confused Butler.

"Brighter, milady?"

"Yes, Spratt. Champagne…something exciting! I know it is the afternoon, and you are quite unaccustomed to this. But if we are to make it in 1925, you'd better get used to it."

The Butler nodded, gathering the tea tray and walked away, still bewildered as to what he had just been asked. Isobel uncrossed her arms and sat forward, a coy smile forming on her face.

"I think you've utterly baffled the poor man."

"Indeed…but he needs a little excitement in his life. Denker cannot be the only one to have a bit of fun," the Dowager answered with a chuckle.

Isobel shook her head and allowed herself to laugh softly. But she turned serious once more as she asked Violet, "You do not think me a fool for agreeing to this again? To marry Dickie?"

"My dear, I would only think you a fool for _not _agreeing to it…"Violet answered, smiling warmly at the younger woman across from her.

* * *

_Saturday evening_

Mrs. Field and Elizabeth smiled as Isobel descended the stairs.

"You look lovely, Mrs. Crawley," Elizabeth said, helping Isobel in to her coat.

"Thank you, dear. You're very kind," Isobel replied with a small smile for the young maid.

"Everything will go just fine, ma'am," Mrs. Field reassured her employer. Isobel turned to regard both women, the only two people she'd trusted with the importance of tonight's dinner.

"Thank you, both of you. I've been unfair in asking you to keep tonight's dinner a secret."

"Not at all, ma'am. It's a bit of fun for us," Elizabeth answered with a hint of excitement.

Mrs. Field hushed the young girl's giggles before turning back to Isobel. "We're very pleased for you, Mrs. Crawley. We want tonight to be a success."

"Thank you. Now, I must be off. Would you keep the front door open? I can lock up when I return," Isobel said, gathering her handbag and checking to make sure her coat was fastened properly.

"Of course, ma'am," Mrs. Field answered.

"Fine. Well…enjoy your evening," she told them with a weak smile, her own nerves suddenly taking hold as Elizabeth opened the front door.

"You too, ma'am," Elizabeth whispered as Isobel passed her.

Isobel was sure she heard another giggle emerge from the young maid as she descended the front stairs. But, it would not do for her to focus on that now. She squared her shoulders and walked forward with purpose and confidence. If anything, she wanted to portray the strong woman she had become over the past twenty years to Timothy…not back down as she had when last she met he and his elder brother.

The chauffeur from Cavenham Park tipped his hat and held open the door for her. She thanked him quietly and settled herself in to the large seat, feeling extremely vulnerable in this moment. As the car pulled away from Crawley House, she looked out the window to see Mrs. Field and Elizabeth wave. And for a brief moment, Isobel allowed herself to smile and remember that no matter what happened this evening, she was never truly alone.

* * *

"Mrs. Crawley," the Butler announced, leading Isobel in to the drawing room at Cavenham Park.

Lord Merton smiled and made his way over to greet her immediately. She smiled as he caught her eye, trying not to focus on the young man and woman standing behind him.

"Good evening," Dickie said with a warm smile. "I'm so pleased you could come."

"Thank you for inviting me," she replied as he motioned for her to join him in the center of the room.

"Might I present Miss Elizabeth Butler? And of course, my youngest son Timothy. This is Mrs. Crawley," Dickie announced to the younger generation in the room.

"It is so wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Crawley," the young woman said, stepping forward. "Lord Merton has been telling us all about your work at the hospital and clinic. It sounds so intriguing."

Isobel, a bit relieved, nodded to the young woman. "Thank you."

"Elizabeth is an old friend of the family," Dickie explained, signaling for the women to sit on the settee. "Her father and I go all the way back to when we were young chaps."

"Indeed," Elizabeth explained with a smile. "We practically lived here at Cavenham when we were growing up. Father was always abroad on business so Lord and Lady Merton were kind enough to invite my family over quite often."

"How nice," Isobel answered, smiling to the young girl sitting beside her. She felt a bit more at ease knowing it would not be Timothy questioning her throughout the evening. "Are you still able to visit?"

"Whenever Timothy's schedule allows. His business tends to dictate whether or not I receive an invitation," the young girl said with a wink in Timothy's direction.

"Now Elizabeth, you know you are welcome any time," Dickie said, taking a seat in the arm chair across from the women. Timothy continued standing beside the fireplace, observing silently. Isobel felt a bit uneasy as he continued to stare at her and Elizabeth, but was determined not to let it affect how the evening progressed.

"Of course," Elizabeth replied, turning back to Isobel. "I was very glad that I would have a friendly face here tonight. I'm often limited to conversations on crop rotations and machinery advancements when I am here."

Timothy's face finally broke in to a smile and his head dropped downward. "My apologies, Elizabeth."

"Not to worry. All the more reason for Mrs. Crawley to join us as often as she can," Elizabeth said, her laughter easing some of the tension both Dickie and Isobel felt.

Mead entered the room once more and nodded to Dickie. "Ah, that's dinner everyone. Shall we?"

As they moved to leave the room, Timothy stepped forward to offer Elizabeth his arm. He offered a nod and small smile to Isobel, the first indication that he noticed her arrival. As the young couple left the drawing room, Dickie stepped forward and gently took Isobel's elbow.

"Everything all right?" he asked, noticing how nervous she seemed. She forced a smile and accepted his arm.

"Yes," she answered softly, allowing him to lead her in to the dining room for what she hoped would not be a repeat of the last dinner she'd experienced with a son of her betrothed.


	8. Chapter 8

It was not until the dessert course that Isobel's apprehensions came to the surface. Elizabeth's presence and questioning of Isobel's work seemed to help conversation move along smoothly.

"So you have been a nurse ever since the Boer conflict?" Elizabeth asked Isobel, taking a small sip from her wine glass.

"Yes. My father and brother were physicians, as was my late husband. They were all heavily involved during the fighting, so I felt it was the one way I could be useful to them."

"How lovely," Elizabeth said, clearly astonished as to all Isobel had accomplished during her lifetime. Dickie smiled to the young girl, grateful that Timothy had asked her to come along. It was her influence over his young son that may be the key in Timothy's approval of his marrying Isobel.

"Did your husband fight in the conflict?" Timothy asked.

"He did for a time…but when they learned he was trained as a physician, they moved him to a field hospital to care for the wounded," Isobel explained.

"And what of your son? He would have been too young to fight, would he not?" Timothy asked.

Dickie straightened, sucking in a breath, at the mention of the late Matthew Crawley. While Timothy knew Matthew was dead, he had never detailed just how close Isobel had been with Matthew.

"Yes, he was. He was in school at the time which allowed me time to train for the nursing corps."

"Did you have no other children?" Elizabeth asked innocently.

"No," Isobel replied, smiling to the footmen who filled her wine glass.

"Pity," Timothy said, "Especially knowing your husband was in the Crawley line. A spare would have been helpful should something have happened to him during the war."

All conversation ceased. Timothy did not seem to notice the widening eyes of Elizabeth and his father, nor the shock evident on Isobel's face.

Dickie cleared his throat, hoping to move the conversation in a different direction. "Well, it's a good thing that's all over and done with now. Elizabeth, weren't you telling me one of your sisters was thinking of becoming a nurse?"

Elizabeth, still concerned over the grim look on Isobel's face, forced a weak smile. "Yes, my youngest sister, Bethany. Mother is having quite a time with whether or not she should allow it. She's afraid the poor thing might be lost out on her own."

"Knowing Bethany, she will thrive," Timothy said, yet unaware of how impactful his last comments had been. "Wasn't she always the one trying to sneak out in the middle of the night?"

Elizabeth smiled and detailed Bethany's latest escapade throughout dessert. But Dickie continued casting looks in Isobel's direction, noting how quiet and distant she had become. He worried there was something he should say or do to help her…but what that was, he did not know.

* * *

"Well, I'm afraid I am heading up. That train ride always tires me out," Elizabeth said, standing to accept a kiss on the cheek from Lord Merton.

"Good night, my dear. And thank you for keeping Timothy company on his journey," Dickie said with a smile in his son's direction.

"A welcome distraction from the endless rows of trees passing by," Timothy replied, finishing his drink and walking over. "I'll head up as well. Mrs. Crawley, it was good of you to come this evening."

Isobel was quite surprised but pleased as she had not been able to gauge Timothy's thoughts throughout the night. "Thank you, Timothy. It was nice to see you again."

He nodded as Elizabeth stepped forward to take Isobel's hand. "Might you come by for tea tomorrow? Lord Merton and Timothy will be out all day, and I'll be here by myself. Perhaps you could tell me more about the training courses for nursing so I can reassure Mother. It will help to have a firsthand opinion on the subject, don't you think?"

Elizabeth looked to Lord Merton for approval and he nodded. "I quite agree."

The young woman smiled and turned back to Isobel. "Will you come?"

Isobel's eyes moved to meet Dickie's and then Timothy's. She could tell Dickie was delighted at the thought, but Timothy was still quite difficult to read. She felt a squeeze of her hands and was pulled back to Elizabeth. "Please Mrs. Crawley. I would be ever so grateful."

Isobel acquiesced and replied, "I'd be glad to."

Elizabeth sighed in delight and let go of Isobel's hands. "Wonderful! We will see you tomorrow then. And thank you!"

Isobel and Dickie bid the pair good night as they left the drawing room. As Mead closed the door behind the couple, Isobel turned and picked up her handbag.

"I suppose I should be off." Turning, she found she was now face to face with Dickie. He looked down at her, concern written over his features.

"Isobel…what is it? Something happened at dinner…tell me," he implored, not allowing her to pass by him.

"I thought it went well…though I'm not quite sure Timothy's opinion of me has changed," she said, looking down from his pointed gaze.

"His silence has always meant he is thinking. And the fact that he said he was glad you came this evening indicates he may now understand my position."

Isobel looked up at him once more and forced a smile. "What a relief."

"You do not seem convinced," he replied.

"Don't I? I am sorry…I suppose I'm a bit worn out," she answered honestly, fiddling with the strings on her handbag.

"Are you still unsure? Of our marrying?"

_The poor man_, she thought, looking up to find he seemed quite upset. She cautiously reached over and squeezed his arm. "No…I'm not."

Relief washed over him as he took her hand before she could pull it away. "Because after tonight, I think all barriers have been pushed aside."

She squeezed his hand and nodded. "I do hope so. Perhaps Timothy will express more to you tomorrow?"

"Yes…you can be sure it is the first thing I will ask him on our outing. And stay to dinner tomorrow….Elizabeth will enjoy the company immensely…as will I. Perhaps we can find a moment alone with Timothy to discuss the wedding."

"Are you quite sure? I would not want to impose."

"My dear, you are anything but an imposition," he replied, squeezing her hand once more before allowing her to pull away. He knew there was something more bothering her, but he decided not to press her this evening. If anything, he was thrilled she had agreed to come tomorrow. It seemed his one hope was coming to fruition; that _finally _he was going to have a chance at happiness.

* * *

As Isobel slipped off her shoes late the evening, she caught sight of her husband's picture sitting on her vanity. Sitting up, she reached over to brush a finger down the small frame, memories flooding her mind.

_Oh Reginald….why didn't we ever talk about it…._

* * *

"Things look as though they are running well, Father," Timothy said, clasping his hands behind his back as he watched the young workmen preparing the fields for the upcoming planting.

"Yes, quite well in fact. I am happy to report that we are ahead of schedule, thanks to your help in improving the rotation plans."

"It was good of you to ask," Timothy answered, following Dickie down the path that led back to the main house.

"If you are to run this place one day, I want you involved with its conservation now. You are prepared for that, aren't you?" Dickie asked, turning to face his youngest.

"I believe so," Timothy replied with a nod.

"And Elizabeth…where does she fit in to your plans?" Dickie asked, resuming a slow pace.

"Elizabeth? She's a good friend, of course."

"Mm…and nothing more?"

"Not now…not yet anyway," Timothy answered softly. It was true that he loved Elizabeth, but with everything changing so suddenly and his now being the heir to Cavenham Park, time was not on his side for beginning a courtship with his most trusted friend.

"She does feel strongly for you, you know," his father responded, not seeing his young son's shocked expression.

"I'm sure you're wrong," Timothy answered with a small chuckle.

"Perhaps," Dickie answered as the pair lapsed in to silence once more, each lost in their own thoughts. As they reached the bottom of the hill, they turned to the right and caught sight of the large house up ahead. "I do hope they're enjoying their time."

"Who?" Timothy asked, still thinking about his father's questions of his and Elizabeth's relationship.

"Isobel and Elizabeth. They were meeting for tea this afternoon," Dickie answered, stopping once more and turning to his son.

"Oh, right. I forgot all about it," Timothy answered.

"Timothy, before we head in…I'd like to get your thoughts," Dickie began, knowing it was now or never. He needed to know where Timothy stood on his relationship with Isobel. He did not want to wait to make her his wife any longer than he needed. And he hoped to reassure Isobel this evening that their plans could move forward.

"Thoughts? On what exactly?"

"Isobel," Dickie replied quietly.

Timothy cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back once more, suddenly interested in his shoes. Dickie allowed the young man a moment before prodding him further.

"She is staying to dinner tonight. I know I should have asked but…"

"No, you needn't have," Timothy replied, looking up and nodding. "It is your house, Father, and your right to welcome anyone you wish."

Dickie was a bit surprised by this response, evident enough that Timothy continued before his father had a chance to reply.

"Father…I know how horrible I was a few months ago at that Downton dinner. You see, while your and mother's relationship may not have been a good one, I cared for her a great deal. Yes, she spoiled Larry and I, maybe too much, but she did support us in every situation; good or bad."

He took a few steps past Dickie, looking out over the vast grounds surrounding Cavenham Park. He remembered the days when he and Larry were young, playing out in the fields while their mother worked with the gardener. He remembered her smile, how she laughed and teased them, how she smelled before a grand dinner…he missed that.

"And to know she will be replaced in this house is very difficult," he said, turning to find his father's face drop in defeat. Dickie looked down at his hands clasped atop his walking stick, trying to control his emotions. Timothy hated to see his father upset, but he had wanted the truth…and it was the truth Timothy vowed to give him.

"I suppose it would not make any difference if I tell you Isobel does not wish to replace your mother."

"I know that already…I knew that the moment I saw her face upon leaving Downton that evening."

Dickie looked up, a bit confused. "Then why…."

Timothy held up a hand, silencing Dickie so he could continue. "Father, while it may be difficult to see you married to another woman, I do not wish to put a stop to it. It is clear that Mrs. Crawley makes you very happy. And she is well respected in her community and quite intelligent. I know that mother was never involved with the running of the estate, but things are different now. And it puts me at ease to know Mrs. Crawley will be able to help you should I not be here to make important decisions."

"Timothy…are you saying…do you approve?" Dickie asked, a bit of hope seeping through his voice.

Timothy tentatively reached over and clapped his father on the shoulder. "I do. It may take a bit of time for me to get used to another Lady in the house, but I find you have chosen well."

Dickie cleared his throat, not quite knowing how to respond. He had never been more proud of his son than he was in this moment. He had spoken like a man and made a logical decision, something Dickie questioned before now.

"Thank you, Timothy. Not just for agreeing with me…but for taking the time to truly think it over."

Timothy dropped his hand and motioned for his father to follow him back to the house. "I'm afraid I cannot take all the credit for that."

Dickie looked over, his eyebrows rising in question. Timothy smiled and looked towards the grand home up ahead.

"Women are very persuasive, Father. And it seems Elizabeth is quite taken with Mrs. Crawley. I'd like to stay in her good graces."

Dickie laughed and put a hand on Timothy's shoulder as they continued towards the house. "A keen perception to live by."


	9. Chapter 9

_My apologies for the long wait! I hope you all enjoy this latest installment….I so appreciate your thoughtful and kind reviews!_

* * *

"Mrs. Crawley, might I ask you a personal question?" Elizabeth asked quietly, her eyes dropping to her tea cup. Isobel noticed the young woman's anxiety and in an attempt to calm her, she smiled warmly when Elizabeth's eyes met hers again.

"Of course. How might I help?"

"Well, it's just that…you've been married before…"

"Yes."

"Did Dr. Crawley…or Lord Merton for that matter…did they ever suggest love before asking for your hand?"

Isobel was quite shocked at the question, not sure how to answer the young woman. Elizabeth sighed and dropped her hands from her tea cup in to her lap.

"It's just…Timothy and I…well, we have been friends for quite a long time. We grew up together! But now…well, he never indicates if he feels something more but acts as though he does. I wish I knew what to think," Elizabeth explained.

Isobel allowed her hands to settle on her own tea cup, hoping her words would comfort the young Miss Butler. "And you feel something more for Timothy I presume?"

Elizabeth sucked in a quick breath, her eyes widening as she nodded to Isobel. She had never told a soul her true feelings so opening up to a woman she'd just met yesterday was unnerving. But if anyone understood what it was to have the love of one of the Grey gentlemen, it was Isobel Crawley.

"You must realize that I grew up in quite a different world. I'm afraid that feelings and emotions were not openly discussed in my day…not as they are now."

"But surely you must have known before you agreed to marrying," Elizabeth replied, hoping for some answer to keep her hopes alive.

"Dr. Crawley and I had an understanding…that is true. I knew him quite well before we began courting. My brother and he were old chums in medical school, so I learned a great deal about him before we ever became involved. I think it helped to know more about who he was as a man before I was thrown in to being his wife."

"So you were friends then…before you began courting?"

Isobel smiled, sensing Elizabeth felt a bit better upon hearing this. "Yes, we were very good friends. And even now, I learned quite a bit about Lord Merton before we ever spoke of courting or marrying."

Elizabeth's face lit up. "I do hope that Timothy takes after his father in that way."

Isobel chuckled. "I'm sure he will."

The door opened and the men of their conversation appeared, both smiling to the ladies.

"Good afternoon," Dickie said with a wide smile, walking over to the small table with Timothy in tow. "And how has your afternoon been?"

"Rather intriguing, wouldn't you say Mrs. Crawley?" Elizabeth asked with a small wink in Isobel's direction.

Isobel agreed and smiled to the men. "And yours?"

"I'd say we've also enjoyed a fruitful afternoon," Dickie replied, turning to Timothy. "Timothy?"

"Yes…quite," Timothy answered. "Elizabeth, would you like to go for a walk before the gong? Father tells me the gardener has finished with the east end that you love."

"Yes, that would be lovely. Would you like to join us?" Elizabeth asked, standing and looking between Dickie and Isobel. The elder couple shared a glance and understood that Elizabeth and Timothy needed some time alone.

"I think we'll stay in here. My son has tired me out today," Dickie responded. "Have a good time."

"We'll see you at dinner," Timothy answered, leading Elizabeth out of the room. The young girl waved to Isobel, her smile wide as Timothy shut the door behind them.

"Would you like some tea?" Isobel asked Dickie once the door had closed.

"No, thank you. Why don't we sit? I have something to tell you," he said, motioning towards the center of the room.

He led her over to the settee and clasped his hands behind his back, choosing to remain standing while she sat. She noticed how he was fidgeting and worried something was wrong.

"I take it you spoke with Timothy?" she asked, looking down at her own thumbs that were now circling each other in her lap.

"Yes…I did. And I will not deny that he does have reservations about our marrying."

"I see," she said quietly, her fears quickly surfacing once again.

"But, Isobel…" he began, taking a seat beside her and gently placing a hand over hers. "He understands…and he wants us to be happy."

Her head popped up instantly, her eyes darting back and forth to try and read his face. He smiled and squeezed her hands to calm her. "So...that means…"

Dickie nodded and smiled. "It means that we are to be married….if you will still have me."

Tears prickled her eyelashes, and she looked away quickly, fearing her emotions would overwhelm her. "I would be very happy to," she whispered.

With that, his own shaking hand reached up to turn her face back towards his. "Very well then. Shall we announce you as the future Lady Merton this evening?"

* * *

_One month later, late April 1925_

"It seems as though Downton is thriving, despite losing Tom as your agent," Lord Merton said, stopping alongside Robert. The two men had walked quite a distance, surveying the grounds and allowing Robert to show Dickie the latest developments in their plans to build newer cottages.

"Mary has come quite a long way. And Tom still writes often and gives his opinions on what he feels would be best for Downton."

"Will he visit again? I know Isobel misses little Sybbie quite a bit," Dickie said as they continued their journey back towards Downton.

Robert smiled, chuckling softly at the ease in which Lord Merton mentioned his fiancée. Years before, he and his friend would still have spoken of their spouses as "her Ladyship." It was quite odd to hear Dickie speak of cousin Isobel in such a comfortable manner, but he appreciated the sincerity his friend used in referring to the woman he was to marry.

"I do hope so. Cora has insisted they come over for a bit of the season. Tom will try to get away from his work, though it is not set in stone yet."

"But he enjoys his work?"

"It seems so. Tell me…how has Timothy taken to the estate? He seemed quite involved when we met in London a few weeks ago."

Dickie nodded. "True…I never thought he would be so keen on conserving and running Cavenham Park, but he has shown great interest where the estate is concerned."

"And he has warmed to the idea of your marrying again?" Robert asked, casting a sideways glance towards Dickie. He noted how Dickie's smile widened considerably.

"Yes…I believe so. He and Isobel have had quite a few conversations about the estate, as well as medicine. I think he finds a confidante in her."

The two men walked in silence until they reached the gate of Downton Abbey. As Robert closed the gate behind Dickie, he noted his friend seemed quite contemplative. However, he determined to let Dickie lead the conversation, should something be on his mind.

He would not have to wait long.

"Robert, might I ask you a question?" Dickie slowed his steps some, wanting to keep the conversation between he and Lord Grantham private.

"Of course."

"It's about Isobel," Dickie began, clearing his throat and turning to face Robert. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a deep breath before looking up at Robert. "How much do you know about her life with Dr. Crawley?"

"Mm…very little I'm afraid. Why do you ask?"

"It was something she said…or rather did not say…"

"Go on," Robert prodded, his face turning serious as he realized Dickie was speaking of something seemingly significant.

"She and Dr. Crawley had no other children?"

"No, only Matthew," Robert answered slowly, his voice lowering as he continued. "Dickie, what is this about?"

"When she dined with us last month, she spoke of how she first trained as a nurse during the Boer War. Matthew was in school at the time."

Robert thought a moment before nodding. "Yes, he would have been around fourteen or fifteen."

"Somehow the subject of other children came about. I'm afraid Timothy spoke out of turn and said it was a pity she and Dr. Crawley had no second child…considering Dr. Crawley was an heir in your family."

"But Dr. Crawley never thought it a possibility. It was only due to the Titanic's sinking that Matthew became heir," Robert explained, remembering he had already given Dickie the information years ago. Why was the man questioning it again?

"Robert…forgive me...but Timothy's words seemed to trigger a painful reaction from Isobel. I feel quite responsible for it all."

Robert looked behind to make sure no one else was around, before turning back and lowering his voice to a whisper.

"But surely Isobel would have said if there ever were…" Robert trailed off, realizing just how painful it was when Cora had lost their baby boy before the Great War. If Isobel had gone through something similar, he could understand her keeping it quiet from the rest of the family.

"Yes, I'm sure you're right," Dickie answered, looking down. "I suppose I'm making something out of nothing."

Robert smiled and clapped Dickie on the shoulder. "Perhaps we can set your mind at ease. Let me speak with someone who may know more than you or I."

"Who might that be?" Dickie asked as Robert led him down the path toward Downton once more.

"My mother."

* * *

"Hello, Mama."

Robert entered the drawing room of the Dower House, and kissed his startled mother on the cheek.

"Goodness, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Can a son not stop by to see how his mother is getting on?"

"Of course he can," Violet said, standing from her place at the desk to move to her arm chair. "But my son never would."

"You exaggerate," Robert replied, rolling his eyes and settling on the settee across from her.

"Mm, do I?"

Robert sighed. "To be quite honest, I'm not sure my being here will do any good. But, I said I would attempt to help, and so here I am."

"Help with what exactly?" Violet asked as she set her walking stick to the side.

"It's Dickie Merton. He is a bit unsure of whether or not something his son said has upset Isobel."

"And you believe I will know the answer?"

"Perhaps. It seems Timothy mentioned something of other children when Isobel visited a few weeks ago. Dickie seems to feel that Isobel may have had another child."

Violet's eyes widened and her voice lowered. "Why would he think that?"

Robert leaned back and shook his head. "The way in which she reacted to the conversation, I suppose. How I even got mixed up in this mess still eludes me. But, if Isobel would tell anyone, I gather it would be you."

Violet huffed and looked away. "I wouldn't be too sure of that. She has been quite secretive these past few months. It's like pulling teeth to get information from her."

Robert grinned. "But you do it so well, Mama."

"Don't be satirical, Robert. It is unbecoming of a gentleman," Violet answered with a wave of her hand, her eyes creasing in contemplation. Robert chuckled under his breath but allowed a moment of silence to pass while his mother was lost in thought.

"She has never mentioned any other family to Mary, has she?"

Robert thought a moment and replied, "Not that I know. There were a few uncles of Matthew's at the wedding, but no mention of any others."

"Quite right…." Violet replied, clasping her hands together in her lap once more. "Wouldn't Murray have known if there were other children? Surely the issue would have come up when Matthew died."

"Hm, true. It would have been quite difficult for Mary to take Matthew's place if there had been a brother."

"Indeed. I cannot imagine Isobel keeping something as important as another child a secret."

"I agree. I only ask now to set Dickie's mind at ease," Robert replied, standing and buttoning his jacket. "I'll send a note to let him know we've come up with nothing."

Violet nodded but remained silent, her mind whirling. Robert kissed her cheek and was about to leave when she had an idea.

"Robert," she called, "wait to send the note."

"Wait, Mama?" Robert asked, a bit surprised by her request.

"Yes, wait. I want to talk to Isobel first."

"Surely you do not think…."

Violet held up a hand and stood, walking forward to meet Robert at the door. "Best to be completely sure there is no scandal we may have overlooked."

"Mama really, I don't believe Isobel to be a woman of scandal."

"Neither do I. But we did not know her before she was widowed… people do change, Robert. And I will rest easier hearing the truth from the source in question."


	10. Chapter 10

_Some answers and a little bit more mystery for you! Thank you for the reviews….as always, I am humbled!_

* * *

_Early May, 1925_

"Your garden is starting to bloom. It looks lovely," Isobel commented, surveying the greenery behind the Dower House.

Violet sighed, stopping their walk to lift up a bud. "I suppose…though I'm not sure it will be able to match last year's beauty."

"Why ever not?" Isobel asked, knowing full well the Dowager Countess supplied her gardener with more than enough laborers and funds to create a masterpiece of horticulture.

"Oh, some boy working with Dobbs has come up with a hybrid of sorts. He has influenced the man to place it right under the bay window! Surely it would be best to attempt something new where it can be hidden should it turn out wrong."

"Perhaps they feel it will be a success. Or maybe it needs the light under the bay window. There aren't many tree branches hanging overhead."

Violet sighed and pushed forward, a frown still on her lips. "To think my prized location's appearance will be a mystery is unnerving."

"A bit of mystery in one's life adds excitement," Isobel replied with a grin, looking off as Violet cast a harsh glare her way.

"Must you always think so optimistically?"

"It does make one's days a bit brighter when there is so much going on that is sad in this world."

"I do not care about the rest of the world…simply my garden," Violet replied, heavily sitting down on the bench they had come to.

Isobel could not help but be inwardly amused to see the Dowager rattled. Though friends, she did always hate that Violet seemed to have the upper hand.

"Enough about flowers. Tell me about the wedding….have you chosen a date?" Violet asked as Isobel sat beside her.

"Not yet. Dickie wanted to discuss it with the staff…to see when they felt it might best suit their schedules."

"Should their opinions matter?" Violet was appalled at the idea of coordinating schedules with one's servants, especially if that servant was being paid!

"I know you do not agree, but I think it best that I do all I can to ease the transition of their having another Lady Merton come in to their home."

"My dear, you have far more to learn than I'd imagined if you are worrying over the views of a servant."

"I do not expect you to understand…" Isobel replied with a sigh.

"Good…because it is simply ridiculous. What next? Am I to come to tea with your lady's maid? Or are you to get rid of her altogether?"

Isobel looked back to Violet, her lips thinly pressed together. "No, but not everything you do in your household is how things will be done at Cavenham Park?"

"And is Lord Merton keen on your notions?"

"We have discussed them at length," Isobel answered in defense, "and Dickie is glad to hear my opinions before making his final decision."

Violet scoffed and looked away. "Well, at least you give him that."

"If you think my becoming a Baroness will alter my ego in some way, you are entirely wrong," Isobel said firmly. "I am happy to learn and entertain new ideas….but I will not conform who I am simply to adhere to society's notion of who Lady Merton should be."

Violet's eyebrows rose and a grin graced her lips. "My…that is the tone you should utilize when communicating with your new staff."

Isobel huffed and clenched her hands together in her lap. Violet's eyes softened, wishing she had not sounded so harsh. It wouldn't help her get the information she needed if Isobel's defenses had already risen.

"I suppose your household will not run as mine does…Heaven knows I do not always agree with how Cora runs Downton," Violet admonished, hoping to placate Isobel.

Isobel seemed to relax a bit, and Violet chose to move forward with the ultimate task she needed to complete.

"Come now, I do wish to know how things are going with Timothy."

Isobel smiled slightly. "A bit better, I think. He seems to be coming around to the idea of his father remarrying."

"And he has not spoken of Larry again?"

"No…no one speaks of Larry," Isobel replied. Though she still felt somewhat guilty over Larry being removed from the family as heir, she knew it was best. And Dickie seemed quite happy having Timothy beside him in the running of the estate.

"Thank Heaven for that," Violet replied quietly. "I suppose it is comfort knowing that if one child goes down the wrong path, there is another to take on the challenge."

"I would hope that is not the only reason to have a second child."

"Mm…perhaps. But, unfortunately, one does need to consider these things," Violet replied, observing Isobel's reaction closely.

"I can't think it would ever enter my mind," Isobel replied, matching Violet's eye for eye. "I do hope that is not the only reason Rosamund was born."

Violet scoffed. "Of course not! Besides, she was a girl….it would not have mattered one way or the other if Robert had gone the wrong way. The estate would have passed to a male cousin. So there you have it."

"And you were not disappointed when she was born female?" Isobel asked in challenge.

Violet pursed her lips. "While _Lord Grantham_ may have been, I was happy enough to know that my jewelry would be worn by our flesh and blood, rather than some ghastly second cousin's wife."

Isobel suppressed a smile, looking down at her hands to hide her joy over putting Violet back in her place.

"Do tell me….why is it you never had any other children?" Violet asked, making sure to choose her words carefully. "You adore them…always spoiling George and Marigold. I wonder why you never surrounded yourself with six of your own."

It was subtle, but Violet caught the twinge in Isobel's cheek, knowing the woman was clenching her jaw.

"I do not spoil them," Isobel countered.

Violet supposed she was deflecting the true conversation, so she pressed on. "Nanny thinks differently. She told Lady Mary that George preferred you best because you always brought him a treat."

"She did not say that," Isobel answered, her voice quiet and calm. But inside, she was reeling. _I'm warning you, _she said silently, her eyes narrowing to glare at Violet. If one thing was for sure, no one should contradict how she treated her grandson….not even the Dowager Countess.

Violet understood the silent message, but rallied…knowing scandal was far most costly than upsetting Isobel Crawley's afternoon.

"If you'd had one or two more children, you'd be penniless for all you buy George. I cannot imagine if you had grandchildren spread throughout the county to buy treats for!" Violet answered with a chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood.

Isobel's eyes blinked quickly, tears welling and her stomach dropping. She stood and crossed her arms, turning away from the Dowager. _How dare she! To speak of having children as though it were so simple…_

Violet waited a moment, not sure how Isobel would react if she forced another opinion on her. Cautiously, she stood and placed both hands on her walking stick, hoping to steady herself against Isobel's certain retaliation.

"My dear, I only wish to warn you. If you give them too much when they are young, they will expect…"

Isobel spun around, her eyes fierce with anger. Violet took a step back, not expecting to see such fiery passion from the normally contained Isobel. The woman's fingers were digging in to each arm, her jaw set and her lips pressed together to suppress the emotions within. Violet had not expected this…she had expected a snide remark, perhaps a tearful confession…but never this.

The silence unnerved the Dowager so much that she acquiesced, not wanting to break Isobel more than she already seemed. "I apologize, Isobel. Perhaps my opinions on the matter are unfounded. Do sit…."

But Isobel remained upright, her body fixed in place. The only signs she was still coherent was that of her chest rising up and down and her eyes blinking rapidly. Violet became concerned, chancing a step in Isobel's direction.

"Isobel…"

"You see," Isobel slowly began with a soft and controlled tone, "I want George to know how wonderful his father was. It is for that reason I give him a bit more attention…I fear he will never know what a brilliant man Matthew became…if I'm not there to tell him."

"Of course," Violet replied cautiously.

"It isn't as though we did not want other children," she continued, passing Violet to stare at the nearest rose bush, "Dr. Crawley hoped for a house full, and Matthew desperately longed for a play mate. But…I suppose what we want and what God allows are not always equal, are they?"

Isobel turned to stare directly in to Violet's eyes. The pain and hurt were evident to the shocked Dowager Countess. Isobel knew it unfair to speak such serious words and not tell the full story. But she had kept silent for many years, and now…well, now it seemed words escaped her when suddenly confronted with the painful past.

"Oh, Isobel," Violet said softly, her eyes closing in understanding. If only she had known before, she never would have pressed Isobel on a delicate matter such as this. "My dear, I am sorry."

Isobel waved a hand as she looked back towards the rose bush. "No matter..."

She fingered a bud just beginning to bloom between her fingers, forcing a smile as she turned back to Violet.

"I think this one's a day away, don't you?"


	11. Chapter 11

"It was kind of you to invite me, Lady Grantham," Dickie Merton, taking a seat across from Violet in the drawing room of the Dower House a few days later. "I hope you are well."

"I am," Violet answered, accepting a tea cup from Spratt. "I hear you are still searching for the perfect date for your wedding?"

Dickie took a cup from Spratt and nodded. "Yes…we thought October, but it seemed a bit hasty to plan a large wedding in the middle of the harvest season."

"How thoughtful of you," Violet said, masking her true feelings on the subject.

"Mm…I've spoken with our Housekeeper and though she suggested in the New Year, I think November might be the best time…before the Christmas holiday."

"And Timothy? How does he feel about it?" Violet asked.

"He has been most helpful on the estate for one. And he feels that he is quite capable of taking care of things while we are away after the wedding."

"Mrs. Crawley said that he has been more open to conversation with her?"

"Yes, quite. He finds that she has quite a bit in common with him…which I am most grateful for," Dickie replied with a chuckle.

Violet smiled and set her tea cup to the side. "Indeed. I take it Timothy was a bit concerned during the dinner Mrs. Crawley attended a month or so ago."

"Concerned?" Dickie asked, setting his cup aside as well and sitting forward.

"Mm…so much so that you asked Robert for help."

Dickie's smile weakened as he looked down at his hands. "Lady Grantham, I assure you I never meant…"

Violet held up a hand. "I am not suggesting anything devious, Lord Merton. In fact, I would like to put an end to your mystery."

Dickie sighed in relief. "You had me a bit worried."

Violet chuckled. "No, no. Robert told me of your concerns, and I can assure you that there are no other children lurking about that belong to Mrs. Crawley."

"You know I never thought she was involved in scandal…merely, she was quite upset and I had hoped to comfort her had another child been…well lost…and…."

Violet nodded in understanding, looking down. "I think Mrs. Crawley suffered quite enough with the loss of Matthew. Perhaps it was his memory that caused her a bit of nostalgia that evening."

Dickie agreed. "I must say it sets my mind at ease. I would never wish to hurt her."

Violet took her tea cup once more as they engaged in light conversation. She wondered whether or not she should have told Lord Merton the truth…or at least what she knew of the truth. But what good ever came of a man knowing the personal trials of a woman?


	12. Chapter 12

_As always, the characters in this story belong to Julian Fellows- however, I have taken some liberty with the staff members at Cavenham Park. Because there was no mention of their names in Series 5, I created they and their personalities for myself :) _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_Late August, 1925_

"I was thinking…perhaps we can discuss your lady's maid this evening with Mrs. Crane. Mead has given indication that one of the senior housemaids has been taking courses and would be a superior candidate."

Dickie smiled at his fiancée as they strolled through the lush gardens of Cavenham Park. He was proud to show her the estate's pride and joy, knowing she would soon be privy to enjoying it as her own. Isobel looked up at him, a bit of trepidation in her voice as she spoke.

"Yes…I suppose that would be best."

"You seem concerned," he replied, stopping and turning her to face him. "What is it?"

"It's just…well, I'm not quite sure Mrs. Crane is keen on giving up one of her maid's for a widowed nurse from the village," she answered honestly.

Dickie sighed. "I was hoping you had not picked up on her reservations."

"Unfortunately, she is not very opaque." Isobel offered a small smile and gently took his arm once more, leading him towards the center pathway.

"She never has been. Perhaps Elizabeth could be of help. She and Timothy are to be back before dinner," Dickie suggested.

"I do not wish to make things more difficult for the staff, Dickie," Isobel replied, looking away from him to view the vast gardens. She had hoped to enjoy the quiet setting, but the former Lady Merton's memory loomed as of late.

It was all she could do the past two months to be amicable to the stern Housekeeper, Mrs. Crane. Luckily, Cora and Mary had been helping her with most of the wedding details. And Elizabeth had been kind enough to sit in on a few meetings between the Housekeeper and future Lady Merton. But Isobel knew Mrs. Crane had been faithful to the former Lady of the House, going so far as to ask Lord Merton that they not hold the wedding at Cavenham for the sake of his late wife's memory.

Isobel frowned at the thought, knowing Dickie wished to celebrate their happiness as man and wife in his home..._their home_. While Cora and Robert had generously offered Downton for the occasion, Isobel hadn't felt it right to invade right before the holidays…especially when her only true link to them was buried in the cemetery.

_Matthew…._She knew he would be happy for her. But the reminder of him always brought with it a touch of grief. As Dickie chattered on about how Elizabeth could surely help turn Mrs. Crane around, she forced her son's memory aside, choosing instead to focus on the beautiful flowers and her fiancée beside her.

"What do you say, then? Shall we meet with Mrs. Crane and Elsa before dinner? I've met Elsa once, and she does seem a delightful girl. I think you will enjoy her company."

Isobel cautiously leaned her head against Dickie's shoulder as they turned the corner to lead back to the main house.

"I'm sure I will," she replied softly.

* * *

"Mr. Mead tells us you've taken some courses, Elsa. Is that right?" Elizabeth asked, smiling kindly at the nervous girl standing beside Mrs. Crane.

Elsa nodded, looking back and forth between Elizabeth, Isobel and Dickie in the drawing room of Cavenham Park.

"Yes, milady. I've taken two hairdressing courses, as well as advanced sewing. I've been stitching since I was a young girl but wanted to brush up on my skills."

"How wonderful," Isobel commented, also giving the anxious girl a warm smile. "That shows a great sense of motivation."

"She is still expected to finish all of her household duties before she is allowed to study, ma'am," Mrs. Crane added, not meeting Isobel's eyes. Elizabeth cautioned a glance at Lord Merton and saw his jaw tighten.

"Tell me, Mrs. Crane, how have you found Elsa's work habits? She is a Senior Housemaid?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yeses milady…she has done well in her current position. But I do not think it best…"

"Do not think what best, Mrs. Crane?" Dickie asked, standing from his place beside Isobel and clasping his hands behind his back.

The Housekeeper shifted from one leg to the other under the Baron's harsh glare. "Begging your pardon, milord, but I find that Elsa is most suited to housework. She has never been a lady's maid before and it seems best to have someone with experience in taking on the role."

"And how will she ever gain experience if she is not allowed to practice her craft?" he asked sternly. Elsa looked to Mrs. Crane, her face mixed with emotions. She longed to be a lady's maid but it seemed she had no chance if Mrs. Crane had her way.

"Her time is limited, milord…I do not think we could spare…"

"You do realize," Dickie interrupted, "that I plan on hiring another maid to replace Elsa if she is to take on the position of lady's maid."

"But….we never had an extra hand before," Mrs. Crane responded.

"Times change, Mrs. Crane, and I only want the best for Mrs. Crawley when she becomes Lady of this house," he answered, turning to smile at Isobel before returning his gaze to the flustered Housekeeper. "Is that not what you want as well, Mrs. Crane?"

"Of course milord but…"

She knew she should hold off commenting, but her boldness got the better of her.

"But surely Mrs. Crawley would do better with a more experienced maid who can show her how to act properly as a Baroness."

Elizabeth's eyes widened to the size of saucers as Isobel's smile faded. Dickie sucked in a breath, his fingers unclasping to ball in to fists at his sides. He took three steps forward, standing directly in front of the Housekeeper.

"You dare speak against Mrs. Crawley in such a way! You realize you are dangerously close to unemployment, Mrs. Crane!"

The Housekeeper took a few steps back, never having seen Lord Merton in such a state. Dickie's eyes bore fire and it was all she could do to stand in her place under his reproachful glare. Dickie's mouth opened to berate the woman when he felt a soft touch on his arm.

"I'm sure we can all agree that Mrs. Crane simply wants what is best for the household," Isobel said quietly, keeping her hand on Dickie's arm to calm him. "Perhaps we could give it a trial run. Elsa can come with us on holiday after the wedding, and we can be sure that Mrs. Crane is provided a new maid before we leave. We can reconvene after our return to see how all has fared."

Elizabeth stood quickly, coming to stand beside Isobel in support. "What a lovely idea! Wouldn't you say, Mrs. Crane?"

Her eyes silently told the Housekeeper to be cautious in her words, knowing Lord Merton was one loose comment away from firing the woman. Mrs. Crane caught Elizabeth's indication and nodded.

"Yes, very good ma'am," she replied quietly.

"Elsa, what do you think?" Isobel asked, knowing the poor girl was probably frightened to work anywhere near Lord Merton right now.

"Me? Oh…I…yes, ma'am…thank you for the chance," she squeaked, looking down quickly.

While Elsa knew Lord Merton was her employer, she was sure Mrs. Crane would give her a tongue lashing later for going along with Mrs. Crawley's idea. It took a moment, but Dickie seemed to relax a bit when Isobel smiled up at him, looping her arm through his.

"Then I think that's settled," she said, offering another happy look in the anxious servants' direction. "Mrs. Crane, please do let me know if you should need any help in advertising for a new housemaid. I will be glad to do what I can."

Mrs. Crane nodded, mumbling a thank you to Isobel.

"And now I think we should let you get back to your afternoon. We appreciate your both taking the time out of your busy schedules to come up," Isobel responded sweetly.

Elsa curtsied and scurried out of the room, Mrs. Crane quickly marching out behind her. Once the door closed, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief.

"Goodness, she is a tough egg to crack."

Isobel chuckled as Elizabeth moved back to the settee but worried that Dickie seemed stuck in place.

"Dickie…" she called softly, lowering her voice so that Elizabeth would not overhear.

He shook his head in shame, whispering, "I am quite embarrassed by Mrs. Crane's words. I will leave her go immediately."

He turned to her, forgetting Elizabeth was in the room, and put both his hands on her arms. "I will not let anyone treat you in such a fashion…especially not in our home."

Her heart leapt at his thoughtfulness and concern for her. They were not even married, and he wished to make his home comfortable for _her_. _Quite unlike an aristocrat, _she thought.

"While I do appreciate your thought, I think I can learn to handle Mrs. Crane," she replied with a wink.

"Are you sure?" he asked seriously, searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation. She nodded and reached up to take his left hand. Surprised, he looked down as her fingers wrapped around his large palm.

"I'd hope I'm made of stronger stuff than that," she answered.

Elizabeth suppressed her laughter and looked down, knowing she was not to have heard their quiet conversation. But it gave the young woman hope that one day she and Timothy could behave in such a fashion…_if only he would admit his feelings_, she thought.

Dickie sighed and turned towards Elizabeth, keeping Isobel's hand in his. "My dear Elizabeth, thank you for your help. We may need to call on you again should Mrs. Crane decide to test Mrs. Crawley's kindness in the future."

Elizabeth looked up proudly and smiled at the couple in front of her. "I would be glad to."


	13. Chapter 13

_We're getting closer to the impending wedding of Lord Merton and Isobel Crawley…a few more chapters until we get to November, 1925! I hope you enjoy this latest installment!_

_**A quick note to all those who have asked/are wondering about Isobel's past and her sad memories when children are mentioned: Another story is being written which will develop and explain that story line._

* * *

_Early September, 1925_

"So, what made you choose Italy for the honeymoon?" Elizabeth asked as she and Isobel walked out of the dining room. They were followed closely by Timothy and Dickie, the men deciding to go through with the women that evening.

The wedding date was looming, and details were finally beginning to fall in to place. However, there was one major event they needed to get through before they could enjoy their day….that of George Crawley's fourth birthday party…and the fourth anniversary of Matthew's death. Isobel, along with Dickie and Timothy, were invited to Downton for an outdoor picnic to celebrate George's big day. But it was with trepidation that Isobel had accepted…she usually preferred to be alone on this day and shower George with gifts and hugs a few days later.

She appreciated Elizabeth having come down with Timothy this weekend. It allowed conversation to stray from George's little party to talk of the wedding. Isobel needed a distraction from her only son's death…and Elizabeth was quickly reminding her life had to move on.

Glancing over her shoulder to smile at Dickie, she turned back to Elizabeth. "You'll have to ask Lord Merton. It was he who decided on Rome."

"Have you been to Rome, Father?" Timothy asked, also interested.

"Once….many, many years ago. I remember it was quite beautiful in the city, but the landscape in the country is simply breathtaking. I thought Isobel would appreciate exploring it," Dickie answered.

Elizabeth sighed. "How lovely…and romantic."

Isobel and Dickie both blushed, causing Timothy and Elizabeth to laugh softly. "Come now, Elizabeth. We mustn't embarrass them too much just now. But…once they are married, that is a completely different story."

Timothy smiled and motioned that they should enter the drawing room but was quickly interrupted by a commotion at the front door.

"Mr. Mead! Mr. Mead! Hurry, please!"

"What on Earth?" Dickie began moving towards the front entrance and the elderly man who had just crashed in to Mr. Mead. Timothy followed while the women hung back a few steps, unsure of what could cause such an eruption.

"Please, Mr. Mead…the doctor! We need the doctor!"

"Mead, Hamilton, what is going on?" Dickie demanded. He was now standing in front of the quivering, out of breath Groundskeeper and confused Butler, his hands balling in to fists at his side. "Is such an interruption necessary?"

"I am sorry, milord," Hamilton spoke, twisting his hat as he looked down. "But we need the doctor! Little Harry, milord, he…he was thrown from one of the horses and isn't moving!"

As soon as Isobel heard the word 'doctor', she had started moving forward. Any time a medical term was uttered, her ears perked. Reaching the four men, she unknowingly clutched Dickie's arm.

"Not moving? He is unconscious?" she asked, Dickie and Timothy turning in surprise at her presence. Elizabeth had already moved to the phone, not bothering to wait for Mead to make the call to the physician in the village.

"I think so ma'am…his head is bleeding something fierce! He won't move, even after we tried to splash some water on him."

"Where is he?" she asked, her tone suddenly gaining strength.

"Outside the stables…please, we must get the doctor. I'm afraid…"

The poor groundskeeper looked down at his hat now twisted in to a knot. Isobel could sense the man felt great fear for this young boy's life. Moving forward, she gently patted his arm.

"Now, now…not to worry. Miss Elizabeth is sending for the doctor," she assured, looking over her shoulder to make sure Elizabeth was still on the telephone. "Mr. Mead, would you be so kind as to get a new needle and some thread. I trust there are blankets down at the stables?'

Mead looked to Dickie, wondering whether or not he should follow Mrs. Crawley's instructions.

"You heard her, Mead. Go!" Dickie commanded, turning back to find Isobel ushering Mr. Hamilton towards the front door. Hurrying forward, Dickie gathered her coat from the side along with his own. He called for Timothy to bring Elizabeth and the doctor to the stables before hurrying out the door.

"You say he was thrown? How far?" Isobel had asked the groundskeeper, her small steps rushing to meet the large strides of the determined and worried Mr. Hamilton. The man seemed on a mission to get back to Harry, not truly hearing what Isobel was asking him.

Dickie caught up to the pair and wrapped Isobel's coat around her shoulders. Isobel reached over for his hand, not caring who saw. She needed his support now, especially if Harry was in as bad a shape as Mr. Hamilton was detailing.

"The horse…one of the large mares…the poor lad was doing all he could to calm her. But she spooked and threw him right off. Harry…he…his head hit the fence straight on, and he didn't…he didn't move. We turned him over and there was blood everywhere."

The groundskeeper fell silent as they made their way down the lane, towards the large buildings Isobel surmised were the stables. She breathed a small prayer of thanks when they reached their destination, knowing she would pay in the morning for running in a corset, evening gown and dress shoes. Dickie held tight to her hand, taking the lead when a small group of men huddled together came in to view. He noted she was having a bit of trouble keeping up and left go of her hand to wrap a supportive arm around her waist as they hurried forward.

Isobel quickly became Nurse Crawley when they saw Harry lying motionless on the ground. She called for warm blankets and any ice the men might find in the stables. Falling to her knees, she asked that more lanterns be brought to illuminate the area. Dickie took a lantern from one of the distraught stable hands and held it up to show the boy's face.

"Good God…." He breathed, wincing as Isobel gently brushed the bloody hair off of the boy's forehead. There was a large gash and blood streaming down Harry's white face, so much so that Dickie wondered if his whole forehead hadn't burst open when he fell.

Isobel looked up and caught Dickie's eyes. "His breathing is labored. We have to stop the bleeding."

He nodded to her and set the lamp down beside the boy's face. Though men were shouting for more blankets and towels around them, it seemed the couple was in their own world. Dickie knelt on the other side of Harry and looked to Isobel for direction. "Tell me what to do."

A blanket was thrown over the boy's legs and towels set beside Isobel. "Here ya are, ma'am. We could not find any ice."

"It's all right. Would you fill a few buckets with some fresh water?" Isobel asked, taking one of the towels and pressing it in to Dickie's hand. "Wipe off the blood over his eyes, nose and mouth. But don't touch the wound."

He obeyed and began his task; quickly realizing time was of the essence when Harry's face began to pale with each passing moment. He looked to Isobel, amazed at her focus. She had tightly tucked the blanket in around Harry's legs and placed another under the back of his head. Now, with another towel, she finely wiped away the grass, mud and blood from the head wound, pulling the lantern closer to inspect how large the gash was.

"Mrs. Crawley! Mrs. Crawley!"

Turning, Isobel felt a wave of relief as Mead, followed by Timothy and Mrs. Crane hurried upon the scene. The Butler held out the needle and thread with shaking hands as Timothy dropped to his knees beside Dickie.

"My God…is he breathing?"

"It's shallow, but yes," Isobel replied, thrusting the lantern in to Timothy's hands. "Hold that up for me."

Timothy obeyed, not daring to question the woman who seemed so set in her task. She held the thread close to the light, knowing it was too thin to make any difference in stitching the wound. She tripled the thread to make it thicker and used her teeth to break it from the spool.

"Really…should we not wait for the doctor?" Mrs. Crane called out as Isobel held up the needle to the light. She expertly threaded it under the astonished gazes of Timothy and Dickie. How the woman's hands could work so quickly in the cold and damp night, with a boy dying beneath her, was astounding to the aristocratic Lord Merton and his son.

Isobel chose not to respond to Mrs. Crane and directed Timothy to pass the lantern to Dickie. Dickie held it directly over the boy's head so Isobel could clearly see the gash needing mended. The group watched in fear as Isobel leaned over, readying the needle to start stitching when she was stopped by a loud voice.

"I say, should we not wait for the doctor? Surely he would be better to take care of Harry," Mrs. Crane called out.

Isobel's head shot up, her eyes narrowing in anger. "If we do not stop the bleeding, the boy will go in to shock or die. Would you prefer that?"

Mrs. Crane shivered under the furious glare of Isobel Crawley, taking a few steps back as Timothy stood, his defenses rising. "Mrs. Crane, I suggest you go back to the house and prepare a room for Harry. Now!"

Isobel's eyes dropped back to Harry, her hand shaking slightly from both anger and worry. Dickie reached over and gently squeezed her arm. "You can do this, Isobel," he spoke quietly.

Even in the dark night, she could see the reassurance and confidence in his eyes. She nodded and pulled his hand down a bit to move the lantern as close to Harry's forehead as it could be. She timidly pushed the needle in a few inches above the large gash, using her other hand to hold the boy's head in place. As she worked, the air seemed to leave the group, each onlooker holding their breath in fear. Just as she was about to finish the final stitch, she called for another towel.

"Quickly! I want to keep the wound covered from any dirt or grass that might cause infection," she said, tying off the thread and taking the towel held out for her. Gently, she held it over the boy's wound and pressed lightly to mop up any blood seeping through the stitching. She knew there could be internal bruising or swelling of the boy's brain and chose not to press heavily for fear it would cause more damage.

"A motor! I hear a motor!"

Mead and Elizabeth hurried to the road to direct the motor to the scene but Dickie remained focused on Isobel as she put her fingers under the boy's neck.

"How is he?" Dickie asked quietly, noticing Mr. Hamilton inching closer to the young boy. He kept his voice soft, as he did not want to unnerve the man more than he already was. Isobel took notice of Mr. Hamilton as well and lowered her voice.

"He may have some broken ribs affecting his breathing. If one punctured the lung, he may need surgery."

Dickie closed his eyes, sorrow washing over him. Isobel looked down at the young boy again and gently stroked her fingers down his cheek. Within a moment, Elizabeth appeared with the doctor, a middle-aged gentleman who immediately took control of the situation.

"What on Earth happened?" he asked, setting his bag down and leaning over the young boy to observe the damage.

"He was thrown from one of the horses. I've stitched up the gash on his head, but his breathing is quite shallow. Perhaps a broken rib…" Isobel explained, noticing the doctor's eyes widen in surprise that it was she who gave report of the situation.

"You…you stitched him up?" Dr. Frederick asked.

"Dr. Frederick, this is my fiancée, Mrs. Crawley. She is a trained nurse," Dickie interjected, not wanting the doctor to act rudely as Mrs. Crane had only moments before.

"I see…well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Crawley, though I would have hoped for happier circumstances. Now, let's see what we have…"

The doctor began his examination of the young boy's chest as Isobel held his head still. Glancing over, she saw Dickie staring at her with concern.

"I'm all right," she whispered, knowing the comments of Mrs. Crane had angered him greatly. She wanted to set his mind at ease, though she knew he would dwell on the subject regardless of her reassurances.

The doctor looked between Isobel, Dickie and Timothy after a few moments. "I'm afraid there are a few broken ribs, but all breath sounds are normal though quite labored due to the severity of the fall."

"What would you suggest, Doctor?" Timothy asked.

"Lord Merton, the boy will need complete peace and quiet in a room of his own. And we will need a plank of wood to carry him to the house without disturbing his injuries."

"Of course. Hamilton…"

"Right away, milord," the Groundskeeper answered, grabbing two men and hurrying for the stables to gather a spare board.

"He will need to have constant supervision…at least until he wakes. I'm not sure I can spare a nurse from the hospital…" the doctor began, stopping to think of how he could rearrange the Nurse Rota to accommodate an extra patient.

"There will be no need for that, Dr. Frederick. I will stay with him," Isobel replied. Dickie and Timothy looked to her in surprise.

"Mrs. Crawley, I cannot ask that of you," the doctor answered. He realized that while the woman may be a nurse, she was soon to become Lady Merton over the entire county. It would not do for him to allow her to lower her status in this way.

"You did not ask, Doctor. I offered and it seems it would be the best option," Isobel answered simply.

The doctor, a bit flustered, looked to Dickie for direction. But he could not catch the man's eyes for they were now gazing appreciatively at his bride-to-be. Timothy smiled to the doctor, quick to take note of the man's dilemma, and offered, "I think the decision has been made, Doctor."

Dr. Frederick let out a sigh of relief. "I am grateful for your help, Mrs. Crawley."

Isobel smiled. "No matter. Whatever we can do for young Harry…."

The men returned with a plank, and Harry was quickly carried back to the main house. Dickie held Isobel back before she could follow Dr. Frederick in to the large suite prepared for the young boy.

"Isobel….are you quite sure about this?" he asked.

"Of course…why?" Her eyes creased in confusion as he looked down, a pink blush creeping up his neck.

"I do not wish to be presumptuous…but I thought perhaps I would send word to Crawley House to gather a bag for you…to stay for a few days."

Realization came quickly as Isobel also looked down, her cheeks matching the color of Dickie's. In any other situation, it would be quite normal for her to send word to Crawley House that she would be staying with a patient for a few days. But now…now she was to stay at the home of her fiancée…something that could easily be twisted in to scandal by a devious mind.

"I see…."she replied, clasping her hands together in front of her. "I suppose it would make the most sense…seeing as though we do not know when Harry might wake."

"Right," Dickie answered, "but I will be clear that the reason is to care for Harry…nothing more. And that Timothy and Elizabeth are here as well. I will leave no room for assumptions."

She looked up at him and smiled, tentatively reaching forward to grasp one of his hands. "I trust you."

A grin broke out on his face as he squeezed her fingers. "Good…then that's settled. Is there anything more I can do to help?"

"I'll see what the doctor would like first…but it might be best to alert the boy's parents," she replied.

Dickie's grin faded. "His parents are both dead. Spanish Flu…"

Isobel's heart broke for the young boy of only eleven or twelve lying broken in the next room. "How horrible…"

She looked towards the closed door sadly and then back to Dickie. "All the more reason for me to stay with him…he will need someone looking out for him just now."

She dropped his hand and moved to open the door when he called to her.

"Yes?" She turned and found him closing the distance between them.

"You were absolutely wonderful tonight…" he said, cautiously pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her eyes closed for a moment, relishing his touch. She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand, a look of understanding passing between them. He stepped back as she entered the room of young Harry, allowing a large smile to grace his lips only when the door was securely closed.


	14. Chapter 14

_AND Finally :) _

* * *

It was almost two in the morning before Dickie saw Isobel again. The doctor had left a few hours before, telling them to call with any change in young Harry. Isobel had insisted that she was able to sit up with the boy, not wanting the rest of the household to lose any sleep. Dickie was amazed at her motivation and energy…something he had lost as he grew older, he supposed.

Looking around the dark hallway, he made sure no one was lurking about before he entered the suite. He wanted to be sure Mrs. Crane did not see him. While he had no scandalous activity in mind, he hated to think what she might imagine and spread amongst the staff. He opened the door quietly and smiled when he saw Isobel reading in a chair beside the boy's bed, her arm stretched out to hold Harry's hand. He shut the door quietly and turned, finding she had looked up at the boy, thinking the click of the door was a movement from him.

Dickie felt triumphant in his effort to surprise her, wanting to enjoy a few moments alone before the rest of the house woke. He walked up behind her and gently draped a blanket over her shoulders. Instantly, she sat up straight and turned, her eyes wide with concern until she saw who the perpetrator was.

"Dickie," she whispered, her lips turning upward in a smile, "what on Earth are doing up at this hour?"

"Coming to see how Harry is faring…and to see you," he admitted, pulling a chair alongside of hers and sitting down. "Has he woken at all?"

She shook her head sadly, turning back to look at the boy who seemed so small in the grand, king-sized bed. "No…but he hasn't spiked a fever which is encouraging."

"But the doctor feels he will come out of this, doesn't he?" Dickie asked.

"Yes…but he is not sure how long it may take. There may be other internal injuries we cannot see. If his brain has swollen, it could take quite a while for the pressure to go down."

"What if it doesn't?" he asked, curious about the medical predicament Harry faced. But, he was also well aware of the effect it would have on his household to lose a member so young.

Isobel sighed, closing her book and setting it aside. "There is an operation that could be performed to try and relieve the pressure. Though, it is very dangerous and not always successful."

Dickie hated to see the lines around her eyes crease with worry. Reaching over, he caught her hand and squeezed it gently. She looked back to him, a bit surprised.

"He will be all right. He has been through quite a lot in his young life…I imagine he is stronger than most."

She nodded, looking down at their hands now settled on his knee. "I'm sure you're right," she answered quietly. "I do hope so anyway."

She looked back to the boy and sighed. "I only wish there were more I could do for him…but until he wakes, I'm afraid we cannot know whether he is in pain or not."

Looking back to Dickie, she allowed a small smile. "I'm sorry…all of this talk is only putting a damper on the situation. I am sure Harry will be back with us soon…and we must think positively."

Dickie chuckled, reaching over to cup her cheek with his free hand. "How lucky I am to have you."

She blushed, allowing her cheek to rest on his palm as the stress and worry of the day suddenly made her very tired. His thumb brushed along her cheekbone as he moved a bit closer, knowing he should not take advantage…but desperately wanting to.

"Isobel…"

Though he longed to shake his aristocratic upbringing, he realized it was only with her permission that he could…

She closed her eyes to help settle her nerves, not having been this close to a man in over twenty years. Dickie had always been a true gentleman, never pressing her for any intimate contact she did not initiate. The only time had been when he kissed her on the cheek earlier in the evening…and it had been on Isobel's mind ever since.

She opened her eyes again to see him drawing near, his gaze never breaking from hers.

"Isobel…might I….?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

His smile showed his appreciation, and he gently moved his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck. Slowly, with a bit of hesitation, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers.

Her fingers instinctively squeezed his while her free hand reached up to hold on to his arm. His heart warmed at her acceptance of him, and he drew her face closer, his lips cautiously exploring hers.

Isobel gripped his arm, beginning to feel light-headed with the influx of emotions coursing through her body. She couldn't seem to breathe…Lord Merton had certainly surprised her with his passionate affection! She had to break away, leaning her forehead against his shoulder to collect her breath for she feared fainting in front of him.

He kissed her hair softly and rubbed his hand up and down her back, hoping to calm her nerves and his own rapid heartbeat.

"I do love you," he whispered in her ear before she pulled away from him slightly and looked up to catch his eyes.

"And I love you," she answered softly. Her cheeks flushed red as she looked away, a bit embarrassed being so open with her emotions. He pulled her hands up and kissed the back of both.

"You've made me happier than anyone ever could, Isobel," he said softly, leaning forward to capture her lips once more.

She sighed in contentment and pulled her hands free to wrap around his neck. With a slight tremor, he put his hands on her waist, having never known such feelings could exist. A fleeting thought passed through his mind to deepen their kiss but it was interrupted by a small voice.

"Mummy? Daddy?"

The couple broke instantly, their breaths coming in short and quick as their eyes turned back to the bed. Harry's hand was reaching out, grasping at only air. Isobel quickly stood, taking the boy's outstretched hand in hers and gently rubbing a hand down his cheek.

"It's all right, Harry," she said softly. She continued speaking quietly to calm him, and Dickie came to stand beside her.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

"Would you have someone go fetch the doctor? He will want to evaluate him now he's awake."

"Of course…I won't be a moment," he replied, squeezing her arm gently before hurrying out the door.

"Mummy?" Harry continued calling for his mother. Isobel's heart broke knowing she could not give the boy what he most wanted. She sat on the bed beside him and gently rubbed his hand between both of her own.

"There, there….shh….it's all right," she soothed. The boy calmed after a few moments, but his eyes remained closed. His little fingers wrapped tightly around hers.

"Mummy…where are you?"

"Harry…can you open your eyes for me?" Isobel asked softly, reaching over to brush the hair off of his forehead. Harry's eyes fluttered a few times before opening in to slits, his free hand quickly covered his face. Isobel reached over and turned out the bedside lamp.

"Better?"

The hand moved away from his eyes as Harry looked over to her. "Mummy?"

"Harry, I'm Mrs. Crawley. I'm here to take care of you. Do you remember what happened?"

"No," he said quietly, his grip on her hand tightening even more. "Where are Mummy and Daddy?"

Isobel sighed and reached over to take his other hand. "Harry, dear….they're not here. You're at Cavenham Park. Do you remember Cavenham? Where Lord Merton and his family live?"

Harry looked away, deep in thought. It took a few moments but his eyes moved back to hers. "I don't remember Lord Merton."

Isobel smiled warmly. "That's all right, not to worry. The doctor will be here soon…I'm afraid you've taken quite a fall."

"I did?" The boy looked down towards his feet, his eyes widening as he saw how large of a bed he was in. "Where am I?"

"In one of the bedrooms at Cavenham….Lord Merton and Mr. Harrington wanted to make you as comfortable as possible."

"Mr. Harrington?"

Isobel's eyes lit up as she saw Harry turn his eyes away again. Perhaps he remembered something?

"Mr. Harrington…he is a nice man," Harry said simply, smiling a bit before his face twisted with pain. Isobel stood, dropping his hands and moving a pillow over to rest beside his damaged ribs. She did the same on his other side before taking a cloth and dipping it in some cool water. As she lightly dabbed his face and neck, the boy calmed and fell back asleep.

She finished her task and then sat beside him again, taking one of his hands and rubbing small circles over his knuckles. It was the only thing she knew would help keep him in a peaceful slumber.

"He's on his way," Dickie whispered, coming close to the bed. Isobel turned, a bit startled, almost forgetting that she'd sent him for the doctor.

"Thank Heaven. He just fell back asleep…but he is in quite a lot of pain and does not remember much at all. I'm sure it will right itself with time but hopefully Dr. Frederick can make him more comfortable," she said quietly.

Dickie stepped close to her side and reached over to take her free hand. "And having you care for him will surely get him back on his feet in no time at all."

"Let us hope so," she answered quietly, her eyes still focused on Harry. Leaning down, Dickie cautiously kissed her temple. Isobel's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly relaxed under his tender touch. She slowly turned her head and found she was eye to eye with him.

"If you keep this up, I might never be able to go home…" she whispered. He chuckled softly before leaning in to place a sweet kiss on her lips.

"That, my dear, is the plan."


	15. Chapter 15

_**I am simply overwhelmed by the reviews for Chapter 14. THANK YOU all for such kind words! I hope you enjoy this next installment…I wanted to include a bit of Mary in the mix again :)_

* * *

It was a gloomy day, the clouds having rolled in after breakfast and casting a grey haze over the vast acreage that was Cavenham Park. And on this particular afternoon, the weather seemed to reflect the mood of Lord Merton spot on.

"There you are! I was wondering where you'd gotten to," Isobel said cheerily, walking in to the drawing room to find Dickie looking out the large window, hands clasped behind his back.

He turned and offered her a small smile. "How is Harry?"

"Resting," she answered, coming to stand beside him. "Dr. Frederick feels he will be up and about by next week."

"I'm sure Hamilton will appreciate it," Dickie replied, turning sad eyes from her to look out the window once more.

Isobel had sensed his unease all morning but hadn't pressed him to tell her what was wrong. It was her last morning here, as Harry no longer needed constant supervision. The boy was a true fighter, not wanting to stay put in bed. He longed to be out in the fields with Hamilton and the horses, but his head injury would keep him cooped up for a few more weeks.

She smiled remembering how he had taken her hand earlier and begged her not to go. She promised to come back every few days to help him through the painful therapy treatments needed to help mend his broken ribs. And to test him on his studies, as Dr. Frederick wanted to be sure and prevent any memory loss after such a harsh concussion.

Harry had thanked her shyly, saying he was very glad she was to be Lady Merton. And to her, Harry's acceptance meant more than any other staff members'…even that of the testy Mrs. Crane.

And now, as she stood beside Dickie, she was torn between her need for a full day of rest and the want to stay here at Cavenham. The latter, she surmised, may be the reason her fiancée was looking so glum this afternoon.

"I told Harry I'd be back on Friday to see how he is faring. Perhaps you could help me test him on his geography. Dr. Frederick feels it is best to push him a bit…he doesn't want Harry to lose what memory he regained since the concussion."

"Of course," Dickie answered softly, continuing to look out the window.

Isobel allowed a moment of silence, not knowing what to do to help him out of this mood. Sighing, she clasped her hands in front and looked down.

"I suppose I should be off. Mead said the car is ready."

Dickie said nothing, causing Isobel to look up at his profile. She could see his jaw clenched, keeping whatever thoughts he might have silent. She reached a hand out to touch his arm but pulled back, suddenly unsure of what his distance meant; had she said something wrong…done something he disapproved of…not behaved properly….?

Her own worries unsettled her as she turned and hurried for the drawing room door. Before she could open it, she felt his hand on her arm. His look betrayed his emotions as she turned back to face him. The poor man looked defeated, and it was all she could do not to reach out to hold him close.

Dickie dropped his eyes, unable to hold her questioning look any longer. He knew doing so would cause him to falter when trying to explain his odd behavior all day.

"Forgive me, Isobel. I suppose I'm feeling a bit self-interested today."

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, her eyes softening as she took a step toward him.

He shook his head. "I should be thanking you for all you've done over the past few days…for Harry, for Hamilton, this house…for me…"

He looked up to catch her cheeks tinting pink, her own eyes suddenly interested in the carpet.

"But instead, I stand here in silence….thinking of nothing other than how utterly sad I am that you are leaving."

Her eyes widened as she raised her head to meet his eyes. He looked pitiful, standing in front of her like a lost little boy not knowing which way to turn. She hadn't realized he might miss her as much as she would miss him.

He stepped forward and took her hand. "You have made this house a home again…made it whole. I cannot imagine what it will be like without you here."

"It will only be for a few months longer…" she soothed, squeezing his fingers and offering a reassuring smile. "And I'll be back every few days to check on Harry. I'm sure you will all want to be rid of me by the end of it."

"Never," he said firmly, taking a step closer to her. He gently placed both hands on her cheeks, his eyes softening as he continued, "I will never wish to be rid of you, Isobel."

She smiled, placing her own hands on his wrists. "Then come November, you'll have nothing to worry about."

He laughed softly, leaning down and claiming a small kiss. "The day cannot come soon enough."

"Dickie…."

"Isobel, don't go," he whispered insistently, wrapping his arms around her and capturing her lips once more. This kiss was fervent, yearning, passionate…surprising her at first before she allowed her body to relax in to his embrace. Her hands inched up his chest as he pulled her closer, wanting nothing more than to show her how much he cared.

But as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, Dickie broke quickly, not wishing any damage on Isobel's reputation. They stood still for a moment, their shallow breaths the only other sound to be heard. But the door remained closed and the click of heels became softer, only then allowing the couple to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I'd best let you go," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I fear I will tarnish what relationships you have made here if I have you to myself a moment longer."

She laughed lightly, allowing her hands to drop from his chest. "I suppose so."

Taking her hand, he moved to open the door but not before giving her one last, lingering kiss. Pulling back, he smiled wide and ushered her in to the hall. They walked silently to the front door, both realizing it was going to be a very long two months.

* * *

_Late October, 1925_

"Oh Mama, look at this one," Mary said, laughing lightly as she handed an old photograph to Cora. The pair sat in the drawing room of Crawley House with Isobel and the Dowager Countess. While the initial reason for their meeting that afternoon was to look at Isobel's new clothes for her honeymoon, it had turned in to a time of nostalgic reminiscing.

Crawley House had been cleaned top to bottom, and many of Isobel's personal belongings already transported to Cavenham Park. But she held on to an old hatbox she'd found on the top shelf of her closet. When she saw the photographs inside, she decided it might be best to give some to Mary…to help keep Matthew's memory fresh in young George's mind.

"How darling! Matthew certainly favored Dr. Crawley, didn't he?" Cora asked, looking to Isobel. Isobel nodded, continuing to sift through the stack of photographs on her lap.

"He did...very much so," she answered.

"And George favors Matthew," Mary added. "I often wonder if we'd had a girl if she would have favored me. What do you think Isobel? I'm sure a girl would have favored you, don't you think?"

Mary smiled to her mother-in-law, unconscious of Isobel's fingers suddenly turning white as she gripped the stack of photographs in her hand. Violet stole a glance at her cousin, sensing Isobel's unease.

"I don't think any of us are to know which parent a child will favor. Heavens, who would have thought that Rosamund would favor Lord Grantham," she said with a chuckle. Luckily, for Isobel's sake, Cora and Mary agreed, lapsing in to conversation about how uncanny a resemblance there had been between Rosamund and the late Lord Grantham.

While the pair continued pouring over old photographs, Violet kept her eye on Isobel. Mary's question, though asked innocently enough, had obviously troubled Isobel. Reaching over, Violet gently patted Isobel's arm, snapping the woman from her memories.

"How is that young boy you have been helping at Cavenham?" she asked. The photographs dropped from Isobel's hands back in to the hatbox, and her eyes focused downward. Violet leaned in a bit, lowering her voice. "Are you all right?"

Isobel's eyes creased in confusion as she turned to look at her cousin. Had Violet asked her something? All she could remember was the brown eyes…the dark blond hair….

"Oh Isobel, these are simply lovely. You are sure you can part with them?" Mary asked.

Isobel turned her puzzled gaze from Violet to Mary, her confusion breaking as Mary held up the pictures.

"Of course," she replied, earning a relieved smile from her daughter-in-law.

"Thank you…thank you so much," Mary said quietly, her hand covering her now quivering lips. Cora reached over and rubbed a hand up and down Mary's back.

"It will be good to use these when you tell George stories of dear Matthew. It will help him remember his father for the wonderful man he was."

Isobel's eyes moistened, and she had to look away. She pulled the lid off the floor and closed the box, closed her memories and closed her heart to that period in her life. She had to move on now…she had to leave it behind.

She couldn't afford to live through it all again….


	16. Chapter 16

_A little pre-cursor to the big day!_

* * *

_Early November, 1925_

"Now, I've had Elsa take care of unpacking your things. If there is anything not to your liking, I'll have her fix it straight away," Dickie said, opening the door to a large suite at the end of the East Hall. Ushering Isobel inside, he waited hesitantly for her reaction to what would be her bedroom at Cavenham Park.

He shifted nervously as she took a few slow steps inside the room, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open as she took in the grandeur of the suite. She said nothing, simply moved further in to the room and looked from top to bottom, side to side, in utter astonishment.

He cleared his throat. "Do you like it?"

She turned quickly to face him, as he took a few steps closer to her. "Like it? Dickie…it is positively beautiful. I never expected….well….this," she replied, motioning to the room surrounding them.

Sighing in relief, his face broke in to a grin. "I asked them to decorate the room in colors that I thought you would enjoy….and I must say they did quite a job of it. I want you to be comfortable."

Stepping forward, she squeezed his hands and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "It is wonderful…thank you."

He smiled down at her and chuckled as she hurried over to the bay window overlooking the estate. He could see she was as happy as young Sybbie on Christmas morning, her hands coming together under her chin to enjoy her new room.

"I do hope you have not put anyone else out for this view," she said, turning to him. He came to stand beside her.

"And if I did?" he asked with a crooked grin.

She moved to gently object, but he held up a hand. "No my dear…this room has been vacant for quite some time. And you are just the person to fill it."

"You mean to tell me you've not taken advantage of this for yourself?" she asked, looking out the window once more.

"No, I'm afraid not. My room is on the other side of the hall," he replied.

He saw her smile fade a bit and her eyes and hands both drop. "Oh…I see," she said quietly.

"Milord, is everything to your satisfaction?"

Both Dickie and Isobel turned to find Mrs. Crane in the doorway, a pile of linens in her hands.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Crane," Dickie replied.

"It is a lovely room, Mrs. Crane," Isobel acknowledged, still determined to get along with the woman. "Thank you for all of your hard work in making it so welcoming."

Mrs. Crane nodded, not replying to Isobel's statement. "If there is anything more you need, simply let Elsa know. Milord, I do hope you will forgive us but we've been a bit busy with preparations this afternoon. Your room will be ready by the gong, I can assure you."

Dickie nodded his thanks to the Housekeeper but not before noticing Isobel's eyes drop once more.

"Thank you, Mrs. Crane. We should let you get on with your duties," Dickie answered. The Housekeeper nodded and left the room, a sly grin on her face. If nothing else, she was pleased to know that Lord Merton still chose to sleep in his own bedroom…and the distressed look on Mrs. Crawley's face was just what the Housekeeper needed to satisfy her malicious intent.

* * *

"Do tell me what is wrong, Isobel," Dickie said quietly after a few moments of silence. Isobel had made her way across the room, away from him, to study the pictures along the mantle of the fireplace. Elsa had been thoughtful in placing pictures that meant a great deal to her; one of Matthew and Mary on their wedding day; one of little George as a baby; and one of her new husband-to-be.

She lightly touched the frame holding Dickie's photograph, unaware that he was merely steps away from her.

"Isobel…?"

Her hand dropped, startled by his close proximity. She looked down, clasping her fingers together in front, not sure she should be feeling as gloomy as she did in this moment. Dickie had given her a wonderful surprise with a beautiful suite all of her own….but the fact that it was _her own _was what bothered her the most. Never had she had her own bedroom as a married woman. True, she and Reginald never had the money to accommodate such an arrangement…but then, they had never wanted to sleep apart.

It seemed that this new life was to be very different from her first marriage. And to know Dickie did not wish to share her bed made her wary of the entire prospect of marrying again.

"Don't mind me," she answered quietly, forcing a small smile in his direction. "The room is lovely, Dickie. Truly…"

He stepped forward, not allowing her to move from her place by the mantle. "Isobel, something has changed…is there something about the room not to your liking? I can easily have Elsa…"

"No…of course not! As I told you, it is perfect," she repeated.

"It must be something," he pressed, reaching forward to tilt her chin up. Her eyes met his, and he could see instantly that she was hurt in some way. "Do tell me, Isobel…please."

She looked away, towards the large window. "It is nothing to fret over."

"But you are upset by it. Surely I can help in some way," he offered.

She shook her head, still averting her gaze. "I fear I have much to learn about the differences between life as a doctor's wife and life at Cavenham Park."

Completely confused, Dickie's eyes narrowed. "Whatever do you mean?"

Sighing, she looked back to him. "I…I simply thought we might share this bedroom. I had never thought we would be separated…I suppose it is most natural in your world but…well, Reginald and I never had enough rooms for such conveniences," she replied with a soft, strained laugh.

She took a step away but he caught her arm, quickly stopping her in her tracks.

"Isobel…look at me," he ordered, his tone suddenly serious. She had not heard him sound so firm since he had last spoken of Larry. It wasn't until she turned back to him that he relaxed his hold on her arm. But his eyes…his eyes had lost none of their passion or determination.

"I will be in this room every night if you will have me, I promise you that." His let his hand travel down her arm to grasp her wrists, pulling her a few steps closer. "I was never welcomed by the late Lady Merton…I did not feel it right to assume you would feel any different than she on the subject. But I meant what I said when I proposed, Isobel. I have fallen in love with you and if you'll have me, I wish to be your husband...in every way."

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt tears well. If one thing was for sure, she had never known an aristocrat to speak as openly as Lord Merton. She cherished his honesty…and his openness only deepened her love for him.

"And you won't mind what the staff thinks?" she asked softly.

"Never," he answered. His look did not waver, assuring her that his promise was not to be questioned.

She nodded. "Good…but I do have one condition."

His smile widened as he leaned his forehead against hers. "And that is?"

"I sleep on the right," she replied matter-of-factly.

Chuckling, he leaned down, his lips mere inches from hers. "Deal."


	17. Chapter 17

_The grand day has arrived!_

* * *

_November 14, 1925_

"Now George, you must remember to stay here until Grandmamma tells you it's time, all right?"

"Yes Mama," George Crawley answered obediently, accepting a kiss on the cheek from his mother. Mary stood and looked her son over for any wrinkles or crumbs on his suit. He smiled up at her as she brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"You would make your Father very proud today, George," Mary said quietly, bending down to kiss the top of his head. George beamed as she stepped back, reaching over to take his Grandmamma's hand.

"All set?"

Mary smiled to Isobel who now held tight to her grandson's hand. Mary could see Isobel's eyes had gone misty, knowing it was probably difficult for her to not have Matthew by her side on this important day.

"I should hope so," Isobel answered, lifting her smile from George to Mary. "Thank you for letting George…"

"Isobel, George is your grandson, and like his father, he loves you very much. There is no other place he should be today," Mary said simply, leaning forward to kiss Isobel's cheek. "Now, I best leave you. Such good luck!"

She gently squeezed Isobel's arm and made her way in to the sanctuary of the church, waving to them both before the door closed behind her. Isobel's stomach suddenly filled with nerves as George tugged on her hand.

"Grandmamma, is it almost time?" he asked excitedly.

"I believe it is," she answered, her voice shaking slightly with anxiety. Stepping over to the wall, she took a seat on the bench and pulled George up alongside her.

"Grandmamma, what's wrong?" he asked. Though a young boy, George was keenly aware any time his grandmother seemed upset.

"Nothing dear," she answered, forcing a smile for the young boy. She brushed a hand down his cheek, seeing Matthew in every feature. "Grandmamma is just a bit nervous."

"Why?"

"I suppose because…well, no matter. I'm sure if you hold my hand tight it will be all better, hmm?"

George nodded enthusiastically, his smile stretching across his small face.

"I think that's our signal, Isobel. Shall we?" Robert asked, holding out a hand to help her up. The large organ sounded from inside the sanctuary, and George clapped with joy knowing the music was what they were waiting for. Isobel took Robert's hand and smiled weakly, her stomach turning over once again as she stood.

He put her hand in the crook of his arm and handed her a small bouquet. Taking a few steps forward, they stood in front of the closed double doors leading in to the sanctuary. And right before the doors opened, a small hand took Isobel's left; lacing young, smooth fingers with her own aged ones. Isobel and Robert looked down to find George beaming up at them.

"Don't worry, Grandmamma, I won't let go," he assured her.

* * *

"Will there by anything else, milord?" Mead asked, following Lord Merton to the foot of the large staircase.

"No, that will be all Mead. And please…commend the staff on such a successful day. Their hard work is truly appreciated," Dickie said, smiling tiredly at the Butler.

Mead bowed slightly. "Of course, milord. If I may say so…the new Lady Merton did remarkably well throughout the day. A day that would be overwhelming for anyone…"

Dickie nodded, looking up the staircase. "Yes…yes, she did."

"Well...I bid you a good night, milord," Mead said, taking a step back and clasping his hands behind his back.

"Goodnight, Mead," Dickie replied, his nerves rising with each step he took to the second floor….and his wedding night.


	18. Chapter 18

_**FINAL CHAPTER!***_

_Thank you all for such wonderful and kind reviews for this story…they are truly appreciated, motivational and inspiring! I hope you enjoy the final installment of At All Costs!_

_**Disclaimer: I am not much of a romantic writer…please forgive me if this seems a bit out of character for either Isobel or Lord Merton!**_

* * *

"Just ring tomorrow morning when you're ready, milady," Elsa said with a smile. Isobel's eyes widened as she turned to her new lady's maid. Being called _milady_ was going to take some getting used to…as was ringing for breakfast in the morning. She had never eaten breakfast in bed…not since she was forced to stay in bed after…

"I think you should have everything you need. Might there be anything else I can help you with?" the young maid asked, she herself nervous standing in front of the new Lady Merton.

"No, Elsa, thank you…you've been a dear," Isobel replied. "Go on…off to bed. I'll be fine."

Elsa let out a small sigh of relief, her smile widening as she bid Isobel good night.

And now…alone in a quiet room…Isobel's nerves overwhelmed her. She stood quickly, her hands wringing together as she began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. Would he come…she knew they had spoken of it, but now that the night was upon them…would he…?

"Isobel?"

She whipped around, her pacing stalled, as Dickie closed the door behind him. He turned and smiled but as he took in her appearance, his eyes widened considerably. Her hands still wrung together as she forced a small, shy smile for him.

"Everything all right downstairs?" she asked. He nodded, closing his slightly open mouth, and took a few steps forward. His momentary shock at seeing her in a beautiful dressing gown lifted as he clasped his hands behind his back.

"I asked Mead to thank the staff for a wonderful day. And Elsa...she took care of things for you?"

"Yes, she is lovely," Isobel replied. She clasped her fingers together in front of her and looked down. A moment of tense silence passed before she could handle the quiet no longer. "Well…"

Dickie cleared his throat, taking a few more steps toward her, also looking down. "Yes, well…it was a grand day…I'm sure you're tired…"

"I suppose so," she answered quietly, not daring to look up at him. Why she felt so nervous, she wasn't sure. It wasn't as if this were her first time with a man…though, it had been quite a long time…since Reginald….

"Might you…I guess that is…would you prefer…" Dickie began, stopping in front of her and chancing a glance in her direction, "…I suppose what I mean to say is…."

He ran a nervous hand through his hair and sighed. He really had no idea what he was saying. They were married now…it shouldn't be so awkward, should it?

His silence caused her eyes to lift and catch his features contorting with unspoken worry. Her sympathetic nature overrode her fears as she took a half step forward and touched his arm.

"Yes?"

His breath stopped short, his mind devoid of all logical thought, as her touch sparked a sleeping desire within his core. Rather than meet her eyes, he took her hand in both of his and brought it to his lips, placing a lingering kiss on the back of her knuckles. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against their hands, praying his overwhelming anxiety would not muddle their first night together.

Isobel, sensing his predicament, closed the distance between them. Reaching up, she placed her free hand ever so softly on his cheek. His head raised slowly, his eyes finally opening to meet hers. He offered a small smile as his hands tentatively came to rest on her waist. A lump formed in her throat that she quickly swallowed as his lips gently touched hers. He pulled back rather quickly, wanting to explain…

"Isobel…I'm quite out of my element…" he confessed, his lips mere inches from hers.

"As am I…"she whispered, bringing her hand to the back of his neck as he leaned in once more.

His hands gripped her waist as the simple, chaste kiss turned to one of longing desire. Throwing all caution to the side, he deepened the kiss to something he'd only heard was written in romantic novels. Isobel's eyes popped open upon feeling his tongue brush over her lips…but her immediate shock quickly turned in to a contented sigh as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Hearing her reaction, he gained a bit of confidence and allowed his hands to begin roaming up and down her back. She shivered at his tender touch, her hands holding tight to his shoulders to steady her shaky stance.

Before she realized it, they had crossed to the center of the room, too wrapped up in their passionate embrace to notice where they were. It was not until Dickie began placing tender kisses along her jawline that she saw they were standing at the foot of the bed. Butterflies filled her stomach once more, though it was hard to determine if it was from her nerves or the tingling sensation Dickie's touch created.

It wasn't another moment before Dickie stopped, pulling back to search her eyes.

"Are…are you all right?" he asked a bit breathless.

She nodded and allowed her hands to fall to his chest. "Are you?"

He grin widened as he kissed her gently. "I am quite all right…except…"

His eyes dropped to her neck before he hung his head sheepishly.

"Except…?" she prodded, tilting his chin up.

"Your robe is in the way," he answered softly.

Her cheeks flushed red and she averted her gaze, not knowing why she felt self-conscious. He was her husband, of course...but her body had aged considerably since she was last with a man. She feared what Dickie might think or…

Her breath hitched as his hands came to rest on her cheeks. He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes silently reassuring her that she should trust him. He tentatively reached up to unhook the clasp just beneath her neck. His hands were shaking in anticipation…in fear…

He cursed under his breath, the small hook difficult for his large fingers to detach. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, "This is why you need Elsa."

She laughed softly, grateful for the small break in tension, and placed her hands over his. She guided his fingers to unhook the clasp easily, smiling when she saw the relief wash over his face.

"Much better," he said, his lips touching hers briefly before moving back along her jaw line to find her neck.

_So this was what he wanted…_ she thought, biting her bottom lip to suppress a giggle as his lips tickled her collarbone. And now his lips were on hers again, much more insistent than before…and his fingers had made their way to the top few buttons on her robe. And this time…this time, he needed no help from her.

Following his lead, she gently tugged on the sash of his dressing gown, her hands climbing up his chest and pushing the thick garment off. He mimicked her actions, sliding her arms out of her robe and throwing it to the side. He could not help but look her over, wanting to remember every detail of his new bride. The most skin he had ever seen was when her evening gloves were off at dinner…but now….now, she stood in front of him with only a silk nightgown covering her.

"Dickie?" she called, squeezing his hands gently to break his stunned expression. "What is it?"

"You are absolutely beautiful, my dear," he said quietly, pulling her close and kissing her softly. He knew she was a humble woman, but he could not help but be honest with her. He rubbed a thumb across her cheek, smiling at the blush that had crept down her neck.

"You are," he assured her once more. "And I am the luckiest, happiest man in the world to call you my wife."

"Not as lucky as I am in you," she countered, standing on her tiptoes to offer him another lingering kiss.

He hoped to quell both of their nerves once and for all. Breaking, he let go of her hands, coming around to the left side of the bed. He turned off the table lamp and then moved to do the same on the opposite side. Turning, he held out a hand and smiled, hoping she was a bit more comfortable.

"I believe we had a deal…the right side is yours," he said softly. Smiling, she walked over to him, gasping slightly as he put both hands on her hips and lifted her on to the bed. "And I do like to keep my promises."

"Cheeky," she whispered as his lips covered hers, his hands gently pressing her shoulders back on to the countless pillows lining the headboard.

Lying down beside her, he took his time in showering her with gentle caresses and deep kisses. But as the moments moved on, he realized his want of her was soon to overwhelm. Pushing up on his hands, his confidence wavered at he looked down at her.

"I…I don't want to hurt you, Isobel…I will stop if…"

Her fingers came to his lips as she softly whispered, "I wish you wouldn't."

"You're sure?"

Instead of words, she allowed her fingers to slip from his face to his pajama top. Unclasping the top button, she grinned shyly.

His breath quickened as she finished undoing the buttons and slipped his shirt off. Her hands shook slightly as they brushed over his chest. Not being able to hold still any longer, he leaned down and captured her lips. If anything was certain, it was that he would do all he could to show her just how much he loved her tonight.

And as he slowly pushed the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders, she realized that giving herself to her husband was worth all the trials and distressing memories they had endured. Looking deep in to his eyes, silent permission was granted….

…and finally, reservations were forgotten…and the journey of Lord and Lady Merton began…

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed!_


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